like a dreamer

+ I Keep Missing You, I Want To Hear From You [2PM]

2013-06-30T09:21:43Z

Title: I Keep Missing You, I Want To Hear From You
Rating: R
Pairing: Nichkhun/Chansung
Word Count: 5920 words.
Notes: Written for kpop_olymfics, Team Future with the prompt Gain — Bloom. So many thanks to Michelle for the beta, and to Jess and Mary for the cheerleading and Bek for answering all of my random questions. Originally posted here.
Summary: Chansung is the only one who keeps in regular contact. Nichkhun doesn't hear much from the other members, but they're busy. They're training to defend their country. Nichkhun is catching up on Gossip Girl.

+

Nichkhun doesn't see anyone much in the week before the members of Oneday enlist. They're all too busy saying goodbye to everyone else, friends and industry seniors and family, and it feels like it's started already.

It's probably stupid to be so upset about it. It's not like he's never been separated from the members. And it's not like he isn't used to missing the people he loves. He's spent most of his life being away from one family or the other, it's nothing new. It's not like he didn't know it was coming either—the guys have been talking about it and preparing for years. It just... came too soon. He doesn't feel ready to let go, to be alone again, and he just wishes they had more time.

At least they all manage to set aside time a few nights before their enlistment for a Oneday Party, a proper goodbye, just them and a noraebang.

Of course, just because there are only ten people in one room doesn't mean it isn't rowdier than a house party with a hundred guests. It just seems to be a speciality of theirs, and Nichkhun doesn't know whether to feel bereft or amused as he watches from the sidelines, taking photos with Jinwoon's camera, content not to interrupt the fun.

Chansung joins him after a while, reaching out to hold Nichkhun's lemonade when Seulong and Taec drunkenly end up in a very compromising position on the floor and Nichkhun needs both hands for his camera.

"You'll never be able to show anyone those photos," Chansung says, laughing, and Nichkhun nods, taking another set as Kwon and Wooyoung throw themselves into the fray.

"That's alright. I'll just keep them in a hidden folder and pine over them by myself in a darkened room for the next two years."

He snaps one of Chansung too, who grins goofily for him.

"You won't miss us, hyung," Chansung says confidently. "You'll be out there, keeping 2PM alive for the rest of us. And when we come back we'll be stronger than ever."

Nichkhun laughs. "You've reached a new low when you start using our own lyrics in motivational speeches, Chansung-ah."

"Everything happens for a reason, hyung," Chansung says seriously. There's no detectable accent in his words at all, Chansung so much more confident with his English now, and Nichkhun wonders when that even happened.

His attention is drawn back to the others when Kwon squeals as Seulong gives him a wedgie, and Nichkhun shakes his head. He's pretty sure he just got an amazing photo of Minjun's hand down Junho's pants.

"We're getting our heads shaved tomorrow," Chansung says after a while, so quietly Nichkhun barely hears it over Jinwoon warbling his way through some trot song.

"Should I come too? I need a trim."

Chansung snorts. "I think our fans would cry themselves to sleep every night until it grew back."

"I think they'll be too busy crying over you guys to care about me."

"Hyung." Chansung frowns, lips pursing. Nichkhun forces himself not to look away. "People will always care about you."

Chansung's tone makes it seem more personal than his words, makes it seem private and meaningful and significant, and Nichkhun wants to ask him what he means, who he's speaking for, if there's a deeper meaning, but they literally get pulled out of their conversation instead, dragged by drunken, laughing idiots into one last Dirty Eyed Girls parody. It's a good thing, Nichkhun decides. It's not the right time, and it probably never will be.

When they get shaved they all take a photo together. Nichkhun keeps a copy in his wallet.

+

There's a few things to tidy up in Korea first, but after three weeks of spending most of his time hanging around the JYPE practice rooms desperate for someone to talk to, he decides it's time for a change.

JYP approves him for a break. He flies to Thailand, spends some time with his family. Does one or two low-key promotional events, smiles, waves, repeats.

He doesn't hear much from the members, but they're busy. They're training to defend their country.

Nichkhun is catching up on Gossip Girl.
+Chansung is the only one who keeps in regular contact.

Chansung writes:

Hyung, my base has access to an internet cafe! I'll try to write regularly. It shouldn't be a problem, because I keep thinking of things to tell you, but you're not here. ㅠㅠ

Nichkhun remembers when they first met, how they couldn't communicate at all. How Chansung was this giant, gangly kid, who didn't look anything like a kid, who had wild hair and couldn't hold a note and who was chosen to be part of an idol group anyway. How they had both been the worst at everything. How Taec, Nichkhun's one real connection to the world around him, had always been looking for excitement and so kept abandoning him for more interesting people. How Chansung had always made an effort to include him.

How they'd slowly learned to understand and trust each other, and how, now that everyone's gone, it feels as if there's a huge hole in his heart and Chansung's emails are the only things that seem to help patch it up.

+

The first person Nichkhun is intimate with in a long time tells him her name is Angel.

She's Thai, and she's pretty, willowy and delicate, dyed blonde hair, probably older than him. She knows who he is but she's mature enough to be calm, to take things slowly and comfortably. They meet at the market, they have dinner and dessert together, and then he takes her back to the room he's staying in at Nichan's house.

Nichan is in Indonesia. The house is empty. It takes them less than thirty minutes to gravitate towards the bedroom, and another two for them to disrobe.

She's wearing a blue camisole underneath her top, and it should be frumpy but instead it only complements her elegance, so he doesn't take it off. He just traces his fingers over the scratchy lace across the neckline, lingering for only a moment before he rucks it up and concentrates on removing her matching panties.

He eases her legs apart and leans in, running his nose up her thigh, and she's so soft and warm when he presses down gently with his tongue, his shoulders fitting too perfectly in the hooks of her knees. Her fingers brush over the back of his neck, his ears, his cheekbones, gentle and tender, and he finds himself wishing for more.

For. For strength, maybe. For something he doesn't feel like he has to be careful with. Something… someone who won't be careful with him.

He makes her come anyway, because it isn't her fault that she's everything he's supposed to want, but doesn't.

+

As a general rule, Nichkhun tries not to put much stock in labels. There are some he can't escape—idol, celebrity, role model—but then there are others, more personal ones. Ones that mean so much to people he's never even met, is never going to meet. People who will (who have) lost interest, moved on to live their own lives. People who will judge him anyway.

Straight. Gay. Bisexual.

It's frustrating. There are few individuals he really trusts in this world, and even less that he would trust with his heart, so having those kinds of limitations placed upon him is just…

You love who you love. It's something he's learned over the years, but it's only now that he's 28, and that there isn't a camera in front of his face eighteen hours a day, that he might actually be able to live it out.

+

Chansung writes:

It's weird to say, hyung, but I wish you were here. Everyone gets up on time and everyone is quiet when they should be, but I miss having you around to scold me anyway.

It's strange for Nichkhun, too. For the first time in years, he keeps sleeping in.

+

JYP calls him with a proposition. "You and Changmin-ah. What do you think?"

Nichkhun thinks: it will never be more obvious how lacking I am.

Nichkhun says: "That's a great idea."

He's on a plane back to Korea three days later.

+

It's a given that Changmin sings better than he does, but Nichkhun tries not to be too disappointed when Changmin even dances better than he does. It's a mid-tempo song, the best of both worlds, written by Changmin himself. The choreo isn't flashy but it's finicky, requiring a smoothness of movement and a fluidity of the hips that has never come naturally to him.

They work well together and although the age gap, as well as the quiet focus Changmin exudes, is difficult to get used to at first, Changmin is much more experienced with subunits and being away from 2AM and learning to work with someone new, and he and Namyong work to ensure that everyone communicates about their headspace at all times.

Nichkhun feels like Changmin's always held himself slightly apart from the rest of them, never quite been as willing to throw himself into the chaos as Kwon or Seulong, but again, that could be the age thing, or even the fact that he completed his army duty so young. Still, he feels safe in asking him things, things he might not ask any of the other men, just in case.

"What was it like," Nichkhun says quietly one night as they're packing up to leave, panting and sweating and exhausted, but the good kind, the kind he feels in his bones, the kind that feels accomplished, "doing your army service?"

Changmin pauses, looks at him sidelong. Nichkhun's heard all of his stories before, the ones he's willing to share anyway, everyone has. It's just. Nichkhun needs something now, some... Reassurance, maybe?

He tries not to let it show but it must anyway, because Changmin smiles and pats his shoulder. "It was… illuminating."

Nichkhun frowns. "Helpful."

+

They call themselves 2+2 (Nichkhun can't remember who thought of it—maybe Wooyoung?), and their first stage is… okay. They prerecord their songs (a medley of 2AM and 2PM songs as a supporting song as well their title track) and fulfill the rest of their duties, filming a few spots backstage and an interview with the MCs.

In between, Changmin chats and laughs with everyone else.

Nichkhun makes an effort to greet the staff and any sunbaes, and then finds somewhere quiet and thinks about what he can do better next time.

+

When he was younger, less experienced, less tired, he liked to tell himself that it wasn't his fault, that it couldn't be. How could he help it if Koreans liked his face so much and JYPE decided to use that to their advantage?

But the truth was that it was his fault, even if it was just a little bit. It was easy to go along with it, the special treatment he got because of his face. It had been all his life and he was so used to it that it became second nature to rely on it, even when he wanted to prove that his looks weren't the only thing he had. That there was more to him than his small face and big eyes and cute expressions.

That all changed over time of course, scandals and age depleting peoples' interest, making it harder to become adored because of his name alone, but the difference is, Nichkhun welcomes it now.

The lights are still blinding, but the screams of 'NI-ICH-KHUN, NI-ICH-KHUN, NI-ICH-KHUN' that used to buoy his entire being feel more like weights dragging him to the ground.

+

There's an article about idol group subunits online. 2+2 is listed underneath TaeTiSeo.

Changmin is referred to as 'a man whose vocals are no joke', and the rest of the paragraph is split between his singing prowess and Oneday's history. The only mention of Nichkhun is his hair (dark red now, and long enough to style into little devil horns to match their good vs evil concept), in the very last sentence. He doesn't even dare to read the netizen's comments.

Chansung would tell him something profound and heartfelt, if he was here, something reassuring but not condescending. Nichkhun settles for retweeting Paulo Coelho.

+

Wooyoung always used to be the one who had trouble sleeping. Taec could drop off at any moment, all Minjun needed was a soothing song and he was mouth-breathing his way into slumber, Junho worked hard to tire himself out enough to fall asleep immediately, but Wooyoung was usually too busy worrying. Thinking about ways to improve himself, because he always seemed to be under the ridiculous notion that he was lacking everything.

Nichkhun used to worry about him, but now he understands completely. The last time he slept properly was probably back in Thailand, the night before he got the subunit proposal from JYP. He tries to exercise, tries to read and then to listen to music, tries hot milk, but his brain remains stubbornly engaged with the world around him, and sleep is as elusive as ever.

He wanders into the living area, hands in the pockets of his loose sleeping pants, and wonders what he can possibly do. There's only so many times that he can vacuum the already-pristine floor. He did all the dishes two nights ago and hasn't used any since. All his washing is taken care of. He waxed his chest last week.

"Now what?" he mutters, his voice cutting into the silence. The apartment being so quiet is probably one of the reasons he can't sleep, actually. There was always noise in the villa, someone going in or out or clacking at computer keys or singing in the shower or snoring. There was movement, there was life.

Maybe he should get a dog.

It's on his way into the kitchen, where he may have been going to eat his feelings, that he notices the boxes stacked in the corner, the last couple of ones containing his stuff from the villa. He only ever unpacked the essentials, happy enough with the clutter of the boxes since it was restricted to one small section of the room, so maybe it's time to finally finish going through them.

They're full of fan-made stuff mostly, some special things he couldn't bring himself to get rid of, but it's in the second box that he finds a bunch of photo albums and his old camera. Old really means old, too—it was his mom's when she was a kid. His dad didn't really endorse photography or the arts (ironic, considering Nichkhun's current profession) so she gave it up when they married, but she gave the camera to Nichkhun before he went to New Zealand when he was a kid, so that he could take pictures and send them to her. He never had, because he'd been busy, because his dad would have hated it if he'd thought Nichkhun was wasting his time taking pictures instead of doing something useful, but then he'd brought the camera to Korea and used it a lot as a trainee. It's broken now; too old to justify fixing, especially since he doesn't even know where he could get film processed any more, but he decided a long time ago that he's going to give it to his own son, one day.

Abandoning his half-hearted clean up, Nichkhun grabs the photo albums and takes them to bed, looking through them carefully, remembering.

In the last page of the second book, there's a really good photo of Chansung from right back in the first year after they debuted. His hair is long and he's perched on edge of a balcony, the setting sun sending light playing over the city behind him, striking colour into the monochrome. Nichkhun doesn't remember where it was taken. Chansung looks beautiful.

Nichkhun sets it as his phone wallpaper, and falls asleep not long afterwards.

+

Promotions for 2+2 end quietly. They do their last goodbye stage without relying on anything too flashy, instead choosing to perform an acoustic medley, and it's one of Nichkhun's best vocal performances. It's relaxing, almost, because there's no more pressure, and he doesn't have to compete with the music or remember choreography or watch out for the flashing lights or stage pyrotechnics.

Changmin is quiet in the van back to JYPE, and when they pull up outside the building neither of them get out straight away. When Nichkhun looks at Changmin he's watching him carefully, and then he leans over, pulling Nichkhun into his arms.

"Thank you, hyung," Nichkhun says, leaning into the hug, finally letting himself relax.

Changmin pulls back to smile, patting Nichkhun on the shoulder and climbing out. Nichkhun tugs his cap down to hide his bare face, grabbing his backpack and feeling light for the first time in far too long, which is of course when he gets the phone call.

JYP doesn't even greet him. "What about a drama, Nichkhun-ah?"

Nichkhun thinks: oh dear god why please just leave me alone.

Nichkhun says: "Tell me the details, hyung."

Like he doesn't already know that he's going to say yes.

+

It's his first lead role in anything, and every day, every hour, every minute after he accepts the part, he can't help but wonder—why does he do this to himself? The relief he felt once the 2+2 promotions ended is a faint memory now, now that he's taking acting lessons and attending table reads and learning from stunt coordinators and filming for what is sometimes twenty hours a day.

The buzz before they started shooting seemed really negative (another Japanese remake, why are two idols playing the leads, the PD's patchy track record), so he decided early on that he isn't going to read anything about it, no matter how curious he gets.

After the very first broadcast Chansung writes:

My sergeant is a big Sulli fan, so I'll get to watch every episode~^^ Hyung, you look tired, are you sleeping? Even still, you look so handsome and refined in that butler uniform! It's so good to see you again, even if it is only on TV. The other soldiers keep asking me questions about Sulli, but I only told them things about you, I promise 크크

The others write too—Taec says something lame about how he should wink more, Junho complains about how Nichkhun's the only one out of all of them to play who character who actually gets the girl, Wooyoung recommends him some songs to listen to so he get in the right headspace. Kwon is encouraging, Seulong warns him he'll be monitoring everything so Nichkhun better not screw up, Jinwoon passes on some advice.

Minjun is the only one not to email, which Nichkhun worries about. Everyone else got stationed somewhere decent, but he knows Minjun got sent to one of the harsher bases, which makes his concern all the worse. Not only that but he remembers what Minjun was like when they were trainees, and just hopes he doesn't try sneaking out and undermining authority like he used to. Minjun's surprised them all before though, and he's been through so much. He's much more resilient than most people give him credit for, and that is what Nichkhun remembers every time it hits 4am and they're three hours behind schedule and he feels like he's going to drop.

Thoughts of his brothers are the only things that get him through the entire gruelling three month shoot.

+

Promotions for the drama in Japan are short and sweet—get in, attend the press conference, guest on a few talk shows, get out again two days later. They're also boring as hell.

Boredom is something every celebrity is intimately familiar with, in fact Nichkhun is convinced that's why they're all paid so much, but since he's alone, the only cast member who could attend, it's all the more excruciating. It doesn't help that he's let his Japanese get really rusty without Taec around to give his random pop quizzes, and he fumbles his way through the first day, feeling exhausted and inadequate by the end of it.

It doesn't happen often, but all he really wants is a drink. He won't indulge it, he hasn't since that stupid fucking accident that could have been so much worse than it was, could have ruined the lives of himself and so many others. He goes to the gym instead.

It's pretty much empty at this time of night, only the rowing machine and treadmill in commission. Nichkhun heads directly for the free weights, glancing around as he organises himself.

The guy on the treadmill is tall. He has thick legs and a long waist, hair that flicks into his eyes with every second step. Nichkhun is drawn to him immediately, trying not to be too conspicuous as he watches him, but from the way the guy smirks at him as soon as he powers down his machine and steps off, Nichkhun figures it didn't really work.

The guy takes a long swig of his water, throat bobbing, before he saunters over to Nichkhun, settling next to him, hands occasionally brushing his for absolutely no reason at all. They work steadily, breathing through their reps and sets, and when they finally finish, the guy follows Nichkhun back up to his room.

+

It isn't working. It was stupid to think it would, to think that anyone could substitute, but he had to try, had to make sure what he wanted was specific, not just lust borne from sexual frustration and loneliness.

He's sure now.

The sweat has barely dried when the guy throws his clothes back on and steps into his shoes. Nichkhun watches him, his stomach already beginning to fold in on itself as he thinks about what he's just done. The guy hesitates at the door, reaching into his bag and pulling out something, tossing it to Nichkhun. He catches it reflexively, and then the guy is gone.

He looks down. The red apple is smooth and cool in his hands, and he should be thinking, what the hell, who just fucks someone and gives them an apple, what a dick, but instead—

Adam and Eve, he thinks. And Snow White.

Nichkhun collapses back against the white sheets, wondering what the hell he thought he was doing.

+

It's an impulse thing, because he can't sleep again and he has to be up in two hours and he's so restless it's like he doesn't belong in his own skin, but as soon as he's sent it, he knows it's a mistake. But by then it's far too late—the email is sitting innocently in Chansung's inbox, and the damage is done.

He's used words like 'love' and 'forever', and there's no coming back from that.

+

Trying not to check his phone for new email notifications proves useless—as soon he lands back in Korea, he glances at it every ten minutes, just in case, but there's nothing from Chansung.

A week later, there's still nothing.

Nichkhun hates feeling this helpless, but there's nothing he can do. He can't force Chansung to contact him. All he can do is go back and reread the stupid words he sent, the stupid sentiments he thought would be appropriate to reveal over an email, and keep living his life.

He signs on to an MC job with Min, something involving foreign fans and interviews and speaking both English and Korean. He does a photoshoot with Victoria, which is awkward as usual since they only speak to each other for the cameras. He films a CF. He goes through the motions. He repeats.

+

When Chansung finally contacts him, it's about spending one of his vacation days together. Nichkhun knows he should ask for an explanation, knows it shouldn't be this easy, but instead he asks him if he's sure. The army doesn't really allow you that many days off, and surely Chansung wants to spend them with his family, but Chansung insists.

Nichkhun is much happier during the second week of filming (he tries not to be, but it comes through in too many ways he can't control), and when Min asks him why, he just shrugs.

+

Nichkhun tries to pretend that he isn't counting down the days.

And then the day finally comes and he can't concentrate and he can barely eat and then he sees Chansung's face and it's like the world has colour again, and he realises it's far too late for pretense.

+

He takes Chansung to a small Italian restaurant near his place. It's expensive, and Chansung raises a brow as he looks over the menu, but the food is excellent. It's also private, considering the owner used to be a Hottest and always makes sure Nichkhun gets a private table in the back.

She just about spontaneously combusts when she sees Chansung with him, although for a fan she's still pretty tame, and Nichkhun makes a mental note to ask Chansung to sign something for her before they leave.

"Order whatever you want," he says, folding his own menu closed. He doesn't know why he even opened it, he always means to try something new but has the same thing every time.

"Are you sure you mean that, hyung?" Chansung's mouth tilts upwards.

"Would I say something to you I didn't mean, Chansung-ah?"

Chansung's eyes turn soft, and Khun thinks he might be going to say something about—

But then the waiter comes to take their orders. They skip the entrees but ask for four mains, both declining alcoholic beverages for different reasons, and then let their conversation delve back into lighter territory with talk of other people—the other members, those stationed with Chansung, trainees Nichkhun thinks seem promising—until their food arrives.

It's probably super creepy, but Khun doesn't actually eat much of his own pasta. Instead, he watches Chansung eat, uses this chance to take stock of all the changes that have transformed him, the little habits and gestures he refused to let himself miss.

Chansung eats a lot more efficiently than he used to. He makes sure not to spill any food on his amy fatigues, keeps his plate and face clean, and his fork even has less food piled on it than before, but he's just as fast. He chews quickly and methodically, not even stopping to taste anything, but considering the descriptions of army food Nichkhun has heard that's probably a good thing.

"Yah," Chansung says softly, drawing his attention back to the present. "Did you... You meant what you said in the email too, didn't you."

It's a strange hybrid of statement and question, but Nichkhun's answer is the same either way. This is what he's been waiting for since he finally saw Chansung in the flesh again, and he wants to make sure his response is very, very clear. "I meant every word."

Chansung nods slowly, looks down at his empty plate.

Nichkhun takes a breath. He doesn't know if... What he's about to do next will either make everything better or worse. It's a gamble, but he wouldn't even be here, with Chansung, at a private table for famous people, in Korea, if he wasn't willing to take risks.

He leans forward, sliding his clammy hand under the table to wipe it on his jeans before inching it forward, groping for Chansung's knee.

Maybe he should be worried about getting caught.

Maybe he would if this didn't feel so important.

He finds the tablecloth by accident, bunching it between his fingers and then using his other hand to straighten it out on top and mask what he's doing underneath.

"What are you—" Chansung says, frowning, but then Nichkhun's fingers find purchase on the denim of his jeans, sliding up and resting on his inner thigh.

The transformation of Chansung's eyes, from bright to dark, is heady, and so is the movement of his throat as he swallows.

"For once, I don't feel like dessert," he murmurs. "You?"

"Nothing I could eat in public," Nichkhun blurts, surprising even himself with his crudeness.

Chansung's laugh is a beautiful, thrilling thing, and Nichkhun squeezes his knee before he pulls away and calls for the bill.

+

For all that he's famous and rich and handsome, Nichkhun really hasn't had all that much sex. He lost his virginity at a young age, and he's certainly had his fair share of sexual experiences, he just. He's picky. He discovered pretty early on that one night stands aren't really his thing, passable in a pinch but too impersonal, the behaviour encouraging a certain disrespect for one another that he was brought up to abhor.

Not only that, but he's had to be so careful and has been kept so busy that when he has been granted time off, it's been much more worth it to just sleep than go out looking for trouble. He has enough maturity and imagination that he can go without sex for a while if he has to.

Sleeping with Chansung, though, that's probably one of the things he's imagined the most. He's played it all through in his head, so many times—the way he'll take control, the way Chansung will yield to him, the way they'll fit together and how beautiful it will be.

Thankfully, Chansung completely contradicts his every expectation.

For one, Chansung is the dominating one right from the beginning. As soon as they get in the door of Nichkhun's apartment he starts pulling off his own shirt, and when Nichkhun goes to follow suit Chansung stops him.

"Let me," he breathes.

It only gets better from there.

Chansung drags him towards the open door of his bedroom, wrestling their clothes off as they go. He backs Nichkhun up to the bed and then throws him down onto it, parting his legs and sliding up his body until their hips align. Chansung is completely naked but has, for some reason, left Nichkhun's underwear and wifebeater on, and Nichkhun whines, wanting to feel skin on skin.

"Chansung-ah," Khun complains, pulling at his boxers, but again, Chansung grabs his wrists and pulls them away, leaning down to breathe into Nichkhun's ear.

"Let me."

Nichkhun looks up at him, eyes wide, panting hard, and… lets him.

He lets go.

Chansung rocks their groins together, hard perfect pressure against Nichkhun's dick, and leans in for a kiss. Nichkhun opens up for him straight away, unwilling to play games, sliding his tongue against Chansung's, across his lips and dipping into his mouth.

Chansung's hips speed up and he wrenches away from Nichkhun's mouth, burying his face in Nichkhun's shoulder and licking at him. Nichkhun clutches at the back of Chansung's neck, his fingers digging in, and he's just barely remembered that he can't leave marks when Chansung wraps his arms around Nichkhun and turns him over, depositing him on his stomach. He grinds his dick between Nichkhun's ass cheeks and Nichkhun groans, reaching for him. Chansung ignores him, pressing Nichkhun's body down with his own, hands hot and possessive, one around his jaw, thumb in his mouth, the other clenching down on Nichkhun's own hand, fingers slipping together against the mattress.

Nichkhun's breath hitches right as Chansung's fingers tighten around his own, and he comes into his boxers, feeling Chansung follow him a few moments later, coming over the backs of his thighs.

+

"I won't lie to you," Chansung murmurs, afterwards. Chansung was the one to clean up, something Nichkhun always took it upon himself to do with his other partners, and he'd wondered if it should feel weird as Chansung dragged down his ruined boxers, manoeuvring them carefully over his dick and down his legs. He's wiped both of them up with Nichkhun's wifebeater before settling them down, Nichkhun on his back, Chansung draped over him, and the only thing that was weird was how weird it hadn't felt.

They're chest to chest now, weary, breaths slowing. Chansung's cheek is pressed into the curve of his shoulder and Nichkhun can't not touch him, keeps running his fingertips over his back, brushing down over the curve of his ass, up to press into his hairline.

"Good," Nichkhun says, wondering if it's wise to be this brave.

Chansung exhales, a rush of hot air against his shoulder. "You scare me," he admits quietly.

"Good," Nichkhun repeats. "I'm a really scary hyung."

Chansung leans forward to bite his bicep gently, playfully, pressing his teeth deeper into Nichkhun's skin for a moment before letting go and licking over the teeth marks in apology. "Shut up."

"Okay," Nichkhun agrees.

Chansung pauses, and Nichkhun can practically hear him thinking, before he continues haltingly. "Your email, it was. I wasn't expecting it. We've never… I always knew that I felt that way about you, but." Chansung finally rolls off him, sprawling beside him and stretching out his whole body with a dramatic groan. Nichkhun isn't sure which part of him to watch. He has scars now, on his torso, but Nichkhun hasn't asked about them. Chansung will tell him when he's ready. "We're okay, right?"

Nichkhun nods, because they are. He doesn't even want to imagine a world in which they aren't. "We are. Are you?" he asks softly.

Chansung turns to him, his face so close Nichkhun is almost giving his nose a butterfly kiss. He looks at Nichkhun, really looks at him, like Nichkhun is more than just someone to revere, more than just a poster on a wall or a figure on stage or a number on a cheque, and even though he knows it's foolish, it's unwise and impossible, Nichkhun wants him to stay forever.

"I am now," Chansung promises.

Nichkhun takes the initiative this time, straddling Chansung and leaning down for more kisses.

+

Chansung is barely even gone four hours before Nichkhun starts missing him.

Actually, he's kidding himself.

Chansung had been out of his line of sight for four seconds and Nichkhun had already felt hollow.

+

He's in the kitchen a day later, remembering what Chansung looked like afterwards, wearing Nichkhun's too-long sweatpants, bite mark on his collarbone, grinning at him and nudging him and smoothing down his hair as they scarfed down banana splits at the counter, and before he knows it he's jerking off, sliding to the floor and coming in his pants like he's fifteen years younger than he is.

It's kind of pathetic.

It's just as well Nichkhun came to the conclusion years ago that he doesn't mind being pathetic in the name of love.

+

Chansung's next email is uncharacteristically brief. Nichkhun wonders what happened when he wrote it. Did he want to write more but a superior officer claimed the computer? Or was he happy with this one line, did he know how it would make Nichkhun feel, how it would make Nichkhun smile for days afterwards? How it would make Nichkhun realise that they still have a long way to go, but he should cherish every moment anyway?

Chansung writes:

I keep missing you. I want to hear from you.

Nichkhun smiles.

+

+ Unravelling Slowly [2PM]

2013-06-30T09:19:43Z

Title: Unravelling Slowly
Rating: PG-13 (allusions to a suicide attempt)
Pairing: Taecyeon-centric (minor Taecyeon/Wooyoung, Wooyoung/Nichkhun)
Word Count: 4550 words
Notes: Written for the last kpop_ficmix back in October 2012! (Man am I bad at reposting.) This is a sequel to The Red Thread by shadow_paint. I'm not sure if I managed to do everything I had envisioned with this, and I definitely took some liberties with the inner workings of the Korean police force, but it was a lot of fun doing it! A big thanks to Cath for her valiant attempts at keeping me on track, and for just generally being the best. Originally posted here.
Summary: Wooyoung, he decides, is like a puzzle. One of those 3D ones you know you shouldn't bother connecting because they're high-maintenance and never seem to fit anywhere once they're done, but are in actual fact perfect for Taecyeon, because he's never been able to resist something so complicated.

+

The new guy has scars on his wrists.

Taecyeon notices them by accident. The guy's leaning over to take his badge from Taecyeon's boss (a strange-looking man, striking but only positively in some lights—preferably low ones) when his sleeves slip up his forearms baring pale wrists, veins close to skin and bisected with thin white vertical lines. Not horizontal, Taecyeon notes absently, but running right up the veins for a good few centimetres.

He knew what he was doing.

The guy, Woo-something (Taecyeon should know but he wasn't listening, it's far too early in the morning to retain audible information), notices Taecyeon watching him and immediately drops his arms, brown leather obscuring all evidence of his past. Taecyeon lets his gaze slide up to his face and linger briefly on the additional scar on his cheek before flicking up to his eyes, and there is a moment, a second, when they blaze with emotion, with something other than the impassive deference he's been wearing since he stepped into the precinct—

But just as quickly his features slacken and he turns away, following their boss into his office with quick, assured strides. He doesn't look at Taecyeon for the rest of the day.

Taecyeon has the opposite problem.

+

The thing is, Taecyeon is still young, and he's good at his job, and he could really go places (is it bragging if it's merely repeating something you've been told? Multiple times?), but he's just so… bored. And he gets it, lots of people hate their jobs, lots of people make sacrifices for the sake of their families, of providing for them, and Taec loves his parents, he just… doesn't think he can be that person.

He was probably dumb—no, definitely dumb—thinking that being a police officer would be as exciting as it is in the movies, but he's usually too busy trying to stimulate himself to be sensible, and he honestly wasn't expecting to make it through recruiting anyway.

But then he did, and for a while it was new and exciting. But nothing could have prepared him for the amount of paperwork, for how time-consuming each process of Upholding The Law actually is, for the bureaucracy, for the expectation that he follow orders unquestioningly.

Most of time it's fine. Most of the time he can rationalise it, make the good outweigh the bad and talk himself out of his restlessness, but for that he needs good co-workers. He needs to feed off the energy of the people around him, and that's the problem. Because he used to used to have Junho, but then Junho transferred to another precinct (to be fair, it was to a position that Taec rejected, just like he's turned down every promotion offered to him so far because why would he want to spend more time behind a desk), and no-one else is interesting enough.

Until the new guy.

+

Taecyeon is officially introduced to Jang Wooyoung, his new partner, the next day.

It's not a good day for Taecyeon—he hadn't been able to sleep the night before and he hasn't finished the paperwork he was assigned two days ago and he had a run-in with his neighbour's cat that morning that had somehow ended in scar in a very painful (and inappropriate) place, so he's not one hundred percent on his game.

He can tell Wooyoung thinks he's an idiot.

"Sorry," he apologises, trying to clear a space on Junho's old desk, since he's somehow managed to let all of his stuff encroach on the tiny space. "I'll have this fixed up for you by tomorrow."

Wooyoung seems dubious. He says nothing, just sits in the provided office chair and swivels to face Taecyeon.

Taecyeon clears his throat.

Wooyoung doesn't move.

"So..." Taec says, resisting the urge to start tapping on his teeth, searching for an icebreaker. "What year were born in?"

"Eighty nine," Wooyoung says. There's no emotion to it, no accent, nothing telling at all.

It takes more than disinterest to discourage Taecyeon. "So I'm your hyung," he says, smiling, but trying to dial down on the effect, not wanting to freak Wooyoung out with the full eye-wrinkling-teeth-glinting experience so soon.

Wooyoung nods, once.

"Uh," Taecyeon says. "Okay, so I guess... let's just work hard together?"

Wooyoung stares at him for a moment, and Taecyeon forces himself to keep still, not make any sudden moves, and slowly but surely, Wooyoung relaxes a little. He leans back in his chair and the uncompromising line of his mouth softens—nothing approaching a smile, but Taecyeon appreciates whatever he can get.

+

Of course it only takes Taecyeon about an hour to screw it up.

"So where are you from originally, Wooyoung-sshi?"

And Wooyoung completely shuts down, dropping the file he was holding before standing up and leaving the room.

Taecyeon watches him go, and Changmin-hyung shoots him a look from across the room. He shrugs and waits for Wooyoung to come back, but he never does.

+

"Busan," Wooyoung says quietly the next day, when Taecyeon is late to work but brings him coffee.

It takes Taecyeon a few seconds to connect it to anything but then he nods, and passes Wooyoung half of his doughnut.

+

Seeing Wooyoung at the gym is a surprise, because he doesn't really seem like the type of person to bother with that kind of stuff—he seems more like the brains than the brawn. Wooyoung's laying on a bench, working with the dumbbells, and Taecyeon wonders whether he should approach. He's pretty certain Wooyoung's had more than his fill of him for today, but this is the first time Taecyeon's ever seen his partner out of work, and in the end his curiosity wins out.

As Taecyeon gets closer he can see that Wooyoung's lean, with more of a dancer's or gymnast's physique than a bodybuilders', but he's made the most of his body and his sweaty gym wear clings nicely to his muscles. His skin is pale and slick under the harsh lighting, hair sticking in clumps to his forehead, and as he slowly sits up Taecyeon hurries to pass him a towel, if only just so he doesn't get caught looking.

"Oh," Wooyoung says, looking up, surprised. "Thanks." He wipes his face and Taecyeon watches, pleased, when his eyes spend a little too much time on Taecyeon's arms and upper body. "You come here too?"

"I know the owner." Taecyeon waves to Chansung as he passes through on the way to his office, and Chansung grins and nods before disappearing through a door marked 'STAFF ONLY'. When Taecyeon looks back at Wooyoung he's frowning. "What?"

"Show off," Wooyoung mutters, but Taecyeon doesn't know him well enough yet to tell which percentage of it is truly resentful, and which is teasing—if any.

It's a little startling for him to suddenly realise how much he wishes he did.

But those are terrible, ridiculous thoughts. Wooyoung is his partner, and obviously completely messed up, with a million secrets of unknown consequence, and it's painfully obvious that any attachment Taecyeon forms will be completely one-sided, so there is absolutely No Way he should get involved.

If only he weren't always so intrigued by the unattainable.

Taecyeon drops down onto the bench next to him, making sure he's not quite close enough to touch. "Have you been working out long?" he asks, trying to find a safe topic, but even that seems to be contentious because Wooyoung's shoulders lock up, his every movement suddenly becoming deliberate. Taecyeon just lets it happen, trying to force himself to remain relaxed.

"I'm trying to get back into it," Wooyoung says stiffly.

Taecyeon keeps his voice soft. "Why did you stop?"

"Had no reason to care."

"And you do now?"

There's a long pause. "More like I'm not sure what else to do."

"Okay." Taecyeon nods. He finally glances up at Wooyoung, who looks away quickly and busies himself with tying his shoelaces. Which are already tied. "Anyway. Anytime you feel like you need human contact just—you can call me, okay? Surprisingly, I don't have that many friends."

"That is truly shocking," Wooyoung says, one side of his mouth quirking up.

Taecyeon takes that as a win.

+

Taecyeon gets home and spends one hour and forty seven minutes debating with himself about whether investigating Wooyoung's past would be Unforgivably Bad.

It's obvious Wooyoung doesn't want anyone to know, and Taecyeon is sure that their superiors wouldn't keep anything from him that would endanger lives, nor would anyone have reinstated Wooyoung after his 'recovery' if he hadn't passed the required psychological testing. Maybe he shouldn't pry into his co-worker's, his partner's, secret past. Maybe that's crossing a line. Curiosity killed the Okcat, after all.

By the one hour and forty eight-minute mark, Taecyeon has at least seven Internet Explorer tabs open with information about Jang Wooyoung.

So much for not getting involved.

+

He's the first one in to the precinct the next morning, taking over from Changmin-hyung and providing a full McDonald's breakfast as an incentive (read: bribe) for him to leave quicker. He waits until he's sure Changmin's gone before pulling out the file he has on Wooyoung so far.

His internet search hadn't provided much useful information, just a few small articles mentioning his hand in solving some big cases in Seoul, but none of them had been particularly noteworthy, and Taecyeon hopes that a search through official files will yield better results.

Frustratingly, however, internal records are just as sparse—which is strange, because no case files are never this meagre. It's almost like… they've been purposely removed? Classified, maybe? The only thing of note is a small notation he finds by accident, on the last page of a hand-written incident report that's been scanned into the computer records. It mentions Jang Wooyoung, the murder of another Inspector named Kim Junsu, and one more thing.

The number 7381.

+

It takes another day for Taec to finally realise that he's completely missed an important lead, and once he does he can't berate himself enough.

Because the station Wooyoung used to be assigned to is the same station Junho is posted to now.

"Stupid Ok Taecyeon," he mutters, wrenching his phone out of his pocket and mashing his finger against the screen impatiently. "Stupiiiiid."

Technically, Junho only transferred a few months ago but maybe he can ask around, find something out for Taecyeon. He never does anything for nothing but Taecyeon doesn't mind owing him a favour, not for this.

Taecyeon selects Junho's name and drums his fingers against his desk, keeping an eye out for Wooyoung, but it all seems clear and Junho picks up on the fifth ring.

"Oh, Taecyeon-ah," he hears, and feels a grin spring to his face.

"Yah, you punk!"

"Hyungniiiiiiim," Junho responds obnoxiously, and Taecyeon hears someone laughing in the background.

"This is why I don't miss you," Taecyeon complains. "You are the worst dongsaeng on the planet."

Junho snorts. "Yah, Even Worse Hyung, I know you only called because you want something. Tell me what it is, I'm busy."

Taecyeon scowls, but a glance at his watch makes him realise Wooyoung will arrive in less than ten minutes. No more time for frivolity. "What do you know about a Detective Inspector named Jang Wooyoung?"

There is silence for a few moments. "I… I've heard things," Junho says carefully. "Why?"

"He's my new partner."

"He's still working?" Junho sounds surprised.

"Someone had to take your place."

"No-one could take my place."

"Junho-yah."

"Mmm."

"You're stalling."

Junho sighs. "I don't know, hyung. People don't really talk about him."

"Can you ask around? For me, your favourite hyung?"

He pointedly ignores the last part. "I don't know if I should. I'm new, and I'm the youngest here. I don't want to cause trouble."

"Junho-yah. Do you remember that night with the alcohol and the chopsticks and your ass?"

Taecyeon can almost see his cringe. "Fine. I'll see what I can do. But you never get to bring that up again."

He hangs up.

+

For a while, everything is normal and Taecyeon is almost surprised how much he enjoys his job again—even the paperwork. He and Wooyoung actually work well together, when they're not being respectively overly intrusive or unduly morose, and by now they've even managed to build up some trust between them. Wooyoung, he decides, is like a puzzle. One of those 3D ones you know you shouldn't bother connecting because they're high-maintenance and never seem to fit anywhere once they're done, but are in actual fact perfect for Taecyeon, because he's never been able to resist something so complicated.

The only problem is that whenever his phone rings he feels a surge of guilt, almost always looking up at Wooyoung's face before finally answering, heart in his throat until he registers that it isn't Junho. Until four days after Taecyeon's original call, when it is.

Taecyeon tells himself that he only picks up because otherwise Junho would be pissed, that he's not going to so anything with the information he receives, not now that he actually knows and likes Wooyoung. He's pacifying Junho and assuaging his own destructive intrusiveness, that's all.

But then Junho mentions he spoke to an old mafia contact, mentions an old case Wooyoung worked on to take down some of the more notorious mafia cells a few years ago, mentions 'Codename 7381', mentions Wooyoung's suicide attempt, and all Taecyeon's affirmations from only a minute ago fizzle into nothingness because—

The mafia?

+

Taecyeon decides to finally ask Wooyoung about it after one of their gym sessions. They've started going together—well, Taecyeon invites himself along and Wooyoung doesn't complain as much as he could—and it's the perfect place because it's away from the precinct, Wooyoung's much more at ease after a workout, and they go in Taecyeon's car which means Wooyoung can't escape easily.

In fact, Taecyeon waits until they get all the way to his car after their session before finally asking, "What's Codename 7381?"

If it wasn't so disturbing, Wooyoung's reaction would be fascinating. His whole body locks up and his face contorts into an expression of such utter misery and despair it's almost shocking, before he looks away, bag dropping to the ground with a thunk. Wooyoung leans against the side of the car, hands shaking, and Taecyeon has no idea what to do. He doesn't know what he was expecting, but grief so encompassing, so all-consuming, wasn't it and he immediately regrets asking.

He didn't even think once about how this would affect Wooyoung. Junho was right, he really is a Terrible Hyung.

"No, shit, okay, it's okay Wooyoung-ah," he stutters, rushing over but not sure whether he should touch him or not, so his hands flap awkwardly in the air around Wooyoung's shoulders. "You don't have to tell me, are you okay, please just look at me."

He finally looks up, but again, it's nothing like he had steeled himself for, because there are no tears—instead, his eyes are blazing with anger, his fists now clenched, and Taecyeon takes a very subtle step back… just in case.

But Wooyoung doesn't say anything. He glares.

For a really long time.

"Okay," Taecyeon says abruptly, and then adds, because it's the only action that makes sense in this horrible scenario, "let's go and get drunk."

"Why, so you can get information out of me while my defenses are down?" Wooyoung asks suspiciously.

"No, because alcohol solves everything, at least for a little while." He chances a small smile. "And I feel that as the nosy hyung it is my duty to pay."

Wooyoung pauses a moment longer before opening the car door and throwing himself into the passenger seat, still glaring. He starts messing with Taecyeon's radio, even though he knows Taecyeon hates it, and Taecyeon lets him.

+

Wooyoung is a lot more tactile when he's drunk. He keeps grabbing onto Taecyeon's arm, rubbing his face in Taecyeon's shoulder and ranting directly into Taecyeon's ear. At one point Taecyeon tries to get him to stop drinking, keeping his glass away from him, but Wooyoung jumps on him like a koala and bites him on the bicep, the points of his teeth sharp even through Taecyeon's t-shirt.

He talks more too, about how he used to go fishing when he was a kid, how he would gaze at the sky and think about the future. How life was so much easier.

Finally there's a lull in his rhapsodising and Taecyeon stands up, exchanges wry smiles with the bartender and pays their bill. He wraps an arm around Wooyoung's shoulders and has just manoeuvred Wooyoung outside when Wooyoung abruptly says, "Sometimes I don't know why I'm still alive."

Taecyeon fumbles with Wooyoung and nearly drops him before dragging him over to the mouth of the alley that runs beside the bar, away from the innumerable businessmen puffing on their cigarettes. "What?"

Wooyoung just frowns, eyes drooping and lips pressing together miserably, and Taecyeon finally decides enough is enough.

"You can't die," he tells Wooyoung firmly.

"Why not?"

"Who would solve all the tough cases if you were gone? Who would look after me? I know you're hurting right now but other people would hurt even more if you weren't here. Like me."

Wooyoung stares at him for a moment, eyes suddenly clear and bright, and then suddenly he's launching himself at Taecyeon, awkwardly wrapping his arms around Taecyeon's torso and sealing their lips together.

Taecyeon reels back but Wooyoung scrunches his eyes shut and follows him, squeezing harder, digging his nails in and backing them up against the wall. Taecyeon lets himself have it for a moment, lets his fingers curl around Wooyoung's neck and press into his vertebrae, lets his thumb trace the thin silvery scar on his soft cheek, lets his tongue slide over Wooyoung's lips, lets Wooyoung's hand slip between his thighs and rub against his crotch, but reality sinks in fast and he thinks—no.

Not like this.

That probably means not ever, but definitely not like this, not when Wooyoung isn't even really with him—a fact made obvious when Taecyeon moves back and pulls Wooyoung's hand away, and Wooyoung mutters, "Nichkhun."

Taecyeon really wishes he hadn't.

+

Once Taecyeon finally manages to get Wooyoung into the passenger seat of his car, he pulls out his phone and opens up a new note, hesitating slightly before slowly typing out '니군'. He doesn't know how to spell it properly, but it's a start and it's just what he needs to distract himself from his terrible romantic track record.

He kind of just wants to go home and start researching (or moping, whichever urge is strongest) straight away, but there's still Wooyoung to worry about so anything else will have to be put on hold.

He parks the car as close to Wooyoung's apartment as he can get it before leaning over to undo Wooyoung's seatbelt, and then search through Wooyoung's pockets for his keys. It's a little awkward and Taecyeon really has to force himself to continue when Wooyoung lets out a little moan, but he finally finds them and manages to drag Wooyoung out of the car and up the long staircase to his front door.

Even though he's dropped Wooyoung off before he's never been inside, but he's not really surprised by what he sees—which is hardly anything, because Wooyoung seems to have taken the minimalist look to the extreme. He owns only the most functional of furniture, all of the manchester is white, and there is nothing at all personal on display. No photos, no knick knacks, not even a plant. He drops Wooyoung on the immaculately-made bed and feels a strange surge of satisfaction he messes it up completely in attempt to pull the covers over Wooyoung. He takes off Wooyoung's shoes and drops them by the door, knowing that he should leave now but…

The urge to snoop is far too strong.

He's a police officer, isn't he?

Careful not to displace anything, because he knows Wooyoung will notice in the morning, he has a quick look through the (spotless) cupboards in the kitchenette before moving over to Wooyoung's desk. It's just as tidy as everything else but it also has drawers attached, and one of them is locked.

Taecyeon hesitates for only second before reaching for where he'd dropped Wooyoung's keys on top of the desk, searching through them to find the one that fits the lock. He's onto number five when it finally slides in, and he turns and tries to ease open the drawer.

Except he maybe uses a little too much force and the drawer screeches open. Taecyeon cringes, freezes, and glances at Wooyoung, but he simply smacks his lips and rolls over, letting out a little snore.

"Yah, Ok Taecyeon," Taecyeon mutters to himself, "be cool."

It's always harder for him than it should be.

Still, he adjusts his grip and gently pulls the drawer open the rest of the way to reveal…

He frowns. What is that? He reaches in and pulls out a... cassette? One of those old-school ones, he thinks, audio-only with spools and tape and a label that says, in neat, romanised Korean, 'Wooyoung'.

Taecyeon wonders why it's so precious. Does it relate to Wooyoung's checkered, baffling past in some way? Does Nickoon have something to do with this? Does the mafia? Whatever it is, he's sure he'll be able to listen to it and somehow get it back into the drawer before Wooyoung even notices, and he tucks it into his pocket before closing the drawer, locking it, and slipping out of the apartment.

+

He's never been more wrong.

Wooyoung does notice. Taecyeon notices that Wooyoung has noticed because Wooyoung is late to work, and when he does show up he's in the same clothes as last night, hair wild and eyes wilder, and he storms up to Taecyeon and punches him in the face.

Taecyeon's head snaps back and he barely has time to dodge Wooyoung's next attack, throwing himself out of his chair and scampering around his desk.

"Yah!" Wooyoung screams, pointing at him and already advancing forward again. "Where is it?"

Taecyeon gapes, wishing he'd thought of something to say in case this happened. The worst part is that he hasn't even had the chance to listen to it yet, because once he got home he realised he doesn't own a tape player. He doesn't even know anyone who still does. He remembers listening religiously to the radio when he was a kid, taping his favourite songs, remembers the frustrating processes of fast forwarding and rewinding and always accidentally skipping too far either way, but to be honest, he hadn't even known they still existed—he thought they'd been phased out along with dial up internet and Nintendo 64s.

Actually no, that's not the worst part. The worst part is the look on Wooyoung's face—the utter devastation, the sheer panic, the wild fury, all morphing together to twist Wooyoung's face into something so haunting, something that Taecyeon has never experienced before.

Wooyoung starts advancing on him again but Changmin pulls him back, locking him in his arms as he struggles to break free, "Where is it?! Why did you take it?!"

"I'm sorry," Taecyeon says shakily. He wishes he sounded more in control right now but Wooyoung's eyes are just— "I didn't know... I didn't mean to. I just wanted to find out about... I wanted to help you—"

"You want to help?" Wooyoung suddenly relaxes completely in Changmin's hold, his next words just as forceful but more resigned than angry. "Then take me somewhere."

Taecyeon nods. "Anywhere."

+

They drive for hours. Wooyoung's quiet, speaking only to give Taecyeon directions as they head further and further away from the city. Taecyeon is burning to know where they're going, to know if Wooyoung is okay, but he decides to respect Wooyoung's privacy (probably for the first time since they met), and just keeps driving. Eventually they reach a tiny village somewhere along the West coast and Wooyoung directs him down a unmade road that keeps tapering until the car will no longer fit, so they get out and walk instead.

Wooyoung leads the way and they come out at a clearing, with green green grass and a babbling brook and chirping birds, and Taecyeon finally chances a glance at Wooyoung. He's still quiet, reverent almost as he drinks in the sights, and Taecyeon finally understands that this place must mean a lot to him. That Wooyoung wouldn't share it with just anyone.

He really has to try not to screw this up.

Wooyoung walks all the way to the stream, watching it for a moment before lying down beside it and staring up at the sky. Taecyeon dithers, wondering if he's supposed to join him, before Wooyoung tilts his head and lifts an expectant eyebrow.

Right.

He hurries over and drops down near Wooyoung, on a right angle to him but keeping their faces close. He lets out a breath. He closes his eyes. He waits.

Just as he's finally relaxed, Wooyoung finally speaks.

"Do you believe in destiny, hyung?" he asks.

It's the first time he's used the honorific. Taecyeon wonders what that means. "No," he says eventually. "We make our own destiny."

Wooyoung sighs. "That's what Nichkhun said. He was…"

Taecyeon waits some more. There's nothing. He shifts a bit on his back and something digs into his thigh, and then he remembers—the tape. Carefully, he pulls it out of his pocket and holds it out to Wooyoung. "I didn't play it."

Wooyoung looks over slowly, eyes trailing down Taecyeon's arm before landing on the tape. Taecyeon watches closely, but Wooyoung doesn't even blink.

"No," he says eventually. He looks back at the sky.

Taecyeon blinks. "What?"

"You have it."

"I don't… Wooyoung-ah—"

"It's okay," he says firmly. "It's okay."

They stay by the stream until it gets dark.

Taecyeon is the only one who goes back to Seoul.

+

Approximately three weeks after that, on a Wednesday, two important things happen.

Firstly, Taecyeon receives an email from an unknown sender. He opens it anyway, and the attachments, and immediately feels everything in him loosen because the attachments are pictures—pictures of Jang Wooyoung standing (and beaming, not glaring), with a bunch of kids in front of a sign proclaiming Smile Orphanage—and the body text says, simply, thank you.

And then an hour later he gets a love call from one of his superiors that mentions an opportunity to take down one of the last mafia cells in the form of a promotion.

He doesn't hesitate to accept.

+

+ (Manifest) [2PM]

2013-06-30T09:17:25Z

Title: (Manifest)
Rating: R (language and sexual situations)
Pairing: Chansung/Junho
Word Count: 2400 words
Notes: A pinch hit for the last kpop_ficmix. This is a remix of Slips And Tangles by walkonpluto. Took a leaf from walkonpluto's book, and the title is from a song by the weakerthans. Writing this was an interesting experience for me, written in 24 hours and including a change in form, last minute scrambling and an electricity blackout. Thanks to Cath and Bek for your support. Originally posted here.
Summary: Junho is one of the most frustrating people he's ever met.

+

Twelfth Grade. September.

Junho is one of the most frustrating people he's ever met. Chansung can never read him, because Junho doesn't want him to, and Chansung has no idea why.

Maybe if Junho hadn't been so desperate to fit in then he would have realised that he already did, with Chansung. Maybe if he hadn't been so intent on fulfilling his dreams alone he would have seen that he could have done it together, with Chansung.

But that train of thought is redundant too, because then Junho wouldn't be Junho, and Chansung wouldn't be interested.

Afterwards, when he thinks about it, it's really no surprise he gave in, because he's been heading in this direction since he and Junho first met, he just hadn't known it yet.

Doing that with Junho, fucking someone in public, taking control, coming to the vicious words and pleas (how had he just known about those), it shouldn't be such a thrill. He knows it's fucked up, and weird, and terrible. He knows what would happen if anyone found out.

But he knows they're going to do it again. And maybe one day, he might finally get closer to understanding anything about Lee Junho.

+

Twelfth Grade. July.

"This is your fault, Hwang Chansung," Junho hisses at him. Chansung can't even begin to count the number of times Junho has said this to him since he rejoined the team, rejoined and found himself playing under Chansung, but this time it's different, because he's pretty sure Junho just broke one of his toes.

It's quick and savage, like the crack of a whip, but Chansung feels the years of hurt and aggravation that have built up inside him, all the negative emotion that he knows better than to release, finally pour out of him, and he bares his teeth at Junho, launching himself at him and knocking him to the ground in a sick parody of the incident that tore them apart in the first place.

They flail and punch and pummel each other, rolling around on turf baked hard by a stifling summer, still trying to cause damage even when they're dragged apart by their teammates, and then they're sent back inside to be punished.

It doesn't stop them from doing it again a few days later. Or the week after that. Or even the week after that.

+

Twelfth Grade. March.

"Was that Junho?" Chansung asks, mouth full as he cranes his head to see, like that will somehow help him see through the mass of bodies in the cafeteria. Junho had gone from occasionally showing up to school to disappearing completely, and Chansung had just assumed he was in training to be a super-famous idol and the next time he'd see him would be on Inkigayo. The idea that he's back at school is startling enough to make him pause in his eating.

"Who's Junho?" Wooyoung asks absently, twirling his chopsticks around his fingers.

"Yah, Junho, Lee Junho, he got into that entertainment company, remember?" Kwon sighs wistfully. "I've been trying for eight years, and he gets in first time. He must be good."

"Oh, him." Wooyoung nods. "He can't be that good, I heard he got thrown out."

Chansung's eyes widen. "What?" He leans in, staring at Wooyoung, desperate for information, but Wooyoung is characteristically apathetic as he picks through his noodles, looking for chunks of meat. "Why?"

He shrugs. "I don't know, his mother even called the CEO to try and let him stay but he still got…"

But Chansung has stopped listening, because, for a split second, the crowd parts, and there he is—standing taller, hair shorter, shoulders broader, but his eyes are older, tireder. He looks so world-weary, like he's been away for ten years rather than ten months. Chansung wonders what they could possibly be putting trainees through for him to look like that.

And then, just as quickly, a group of tenth graders wander into Chansung's line of vision, and Junho disappears.

Chansung lets him go and frowns, leaning back in his seat.

Junho's back.

It shouldn't mean anything—it doesn't, not really. Chansung's the captain of the soccer team now, he's got friends, good friends, proper friends, and he's happy. He's never needed Junho. It doesn't matter what's happened to Junho, or what he does from now on.

Chansung doesn't care about him at all.

+

Eleventh Grade. November.

Chansung doesn't remember his dreams very often, but when he does, they're always strange, fragments of stupid things that make less sense the more he thinks about them, but occasionally he'll—well.

There are sex dreams.

Those don't stay with him either, mostly he just knows he has them by the cleaning up he has to do in the morning, but this time, as soon as he wakes up, he has a perfect memory of everything that happened.

In his sex dream.

His gay sex dream.

His gay sex dream with Lee Junho.

Chansung doesn't even know where that came from. He hasn't thought about Lee Junho in months, not since he dropped out of the soccer team and started coming to school for mandatory classes only. He's seen glimpses of him in the halls, heard people talk about him, but it's like he's a ghost.

He had felt shockingly corporeal last night.

Chansung lets out a shaky breath, kicking off his sweaty covers, and the cold air is jarring but that's okay, that's good because everything about Dream Junho was just so. Hot. Burning. His breath, his skin, his dick, his come. He was kinky, too, the way he'd talked dirty, the way he'd begged, the way he'd opened himself up for Chansung, the way he'd licked at Chansung's balls, and Chansung—

Chansung fully intends on blaming this on Junho, but he thinks he understands, now, why it never worked with Jia.

+

Eleventh Grade. May.

Junho is accepted.

Chansung isn't.

Chansung congratulates him.

Junho ignores him and then insults him.

Chansung finally decides to stop trying.

+

Eleventh Grade. April.

Chansung expects to see Junho at the auditions.

Junho hasn't been involved with soccer much lately—he keeps skipping practice and Chansung has to sub in for him, which Coach isn't too happy about—but Chansung has seen him in different places around the school, watching music videos on his phone, practicing recent popular idol choreography, humming tunes under his breath. He heard him sing once too, something in English that even Chansung, with his less than impressive English skills, could tell was terribly pronounced, but it didn't matter, because Chansung is pretty sure Junho is gifted with the voice of an angel.

He wonders how Junho compares to all these other contestants, all these hopeful kids with beautiful dreams and stars in their eyes. Chansung himself knows he's an underdog, since he has no idea how to dance, he's tone deaf, and he has no idea how to model, but he picked one of his more interesting sword routines to perform, and he figures that if it's meant to happen, then it will.

He sees a few people he knows as he looks for a bathroom, even Jia, who he stops to exchange pleasantries with, and then he turns a corner and there Junho is, nervously working through a few dance steps before reaching up to pat down his hair.

It takes only a second of quiet contemplation before he approaches him.

"Yah, Junho-yah," Chansung says softly, and Junho half-turns towards him, eyebrows furrowed and mouth pinched. "Fighting!"

Junho snorts. "I don't need your encouragement. You should save your energy." And he walks away.

Chansung wonders why he even bothers.

+

Tenth Grade. October.

Everyone else is doing it.

Chansung usually doesn't care about that sort of thing, he does what he needs to do in his own time, but he wasn't really offered a choice when he was shoved under the bleachers after practice by some of the older members of the team, Jia following quickly behind him and flashing him a cute little smirk before dropping to her knees and attacking his fly.

His dick had been her mouth before he'd even been able to process what was happening.

This has happened a few other times to the other tenth graders, but Chansung has always made himself scarce when it has. It's a stupid initiation, one he's not comfortable with, and while he could bring himself to enjoy the attention he's not going to do it just to live up to some stupid, gross tradition.

"Um," he croaks out, trying to stop his hips from bucking, "wait—can you—"

Jia makes a humming noise, leaning back and touching her hand to her mouth. She raises an eyebrow.

Chansung cringes. He tries to tell her she's doing great, she feels really good, but instead he says, "You don't have to do that."

She shifts back further, away from his crotch, and removes her hand from the base of his dick.

He likes Jia. Jia is a friend of Sunye's, but Sunye is everyone's friend so he supposes that doesn't really count. Still, he likes Jia's accent, likes the way she wears her uniform, just enough to individualise her but not enough to get in trouble. He likes how soft her hands are, how even though she was being rough with him she was careful with her nails and teeth.

"Unless… do you want to do it?" he asks.

She shrugs. "It's not a big deal. I like it."

"You do?"

"You don't?"

"I do," he says quickly. "You're great. But. We're friends, aren't we?"

Jia tilts her head, holding his gaze for a few moments before she smiles and pats his knee. "Put yourself away. Let's just say we did, right?"

As he zips up, he wonders if this has happened to Junho yet, but then Jia smiles and ducks out, and Chansung emerges after her to a chorus of cheers and some over-enthusiastic slaps on the back.

+

Tenth Grade. April.

It ends up being the most short-lived friendship he's ever had.

He may not be book-smart, but Chansung understands people. He knows about human relationships, the way they're always in flux, how they can alter and adapt, not to mention how easily they can shatter if you don't treat them like the precious gift they are, but even he doesn't expect his friendship with Junho to last less than a month.

Junho has perhaps mentioned the soccer team tryouts, and his desire to be on the team, once or twice (or fifty times) in the past few weeks, and Chansung thinks—why not? He likes Junho, likes spending time with him, so trying out as well is a great idea.

Junho doesn't think so. Chansung laughs and they show up together, where a twelfth grader named Seulong sorts them into makeshift teams. They're not grouped together, Chansung given a blue shirt and Junho a white, but that's okay, and he waves excitedly at Junho from across the field.

"Yah, you punks, listen up! We're only accepting five new players this year," Seulong announces. "So you better prove your worth! Start!"

Most of the tryout passes in a blur and Chansung relishes the burn of oxygen in his lungs, the sweat trickling down his temples to warm his frozen cheeks, the freedom he feels as he ducks and darts over the field.

He's playing at his best, too, he can feel it. Soccer isn't his specialty but he loves all sports, and he's a fast learner so it doesn't take him long to push past the basics already stored in his brain. Unfortunately, from the few times he's risked glancing Junho's way, Junho doesn't seem to be as lucky. He knows what he's doing, Chansung knows he does, he's done nothing but spout soccer theory since they met, but he's uncoordinated and clumsy, and at one point, while he's at goal, he trips over and falls directly on his ass.

Chansung tries to help him even though they're on opposite teams, tries to give him a few easy passes, but Junho is just getting worse, until finally—

They're completing one of the last exercises of the day. Chansung is on goal this time, Junho approaching him with the ball, and Chansung is just wondering whether he should let Junho get a goal when suddenly Junho is on top of him, knocking him to the ground, twisting their bodies up and holding Chansung there for a split second and rolling away, letting out a scream.

Chansung rolls himself into a sitting position. "Junho?" He tries to move towards him, to see if he's okay, but strong arms hold him back. "What—"

"Yah, what happened?" Seulong calls, jogging over.

"He just came at me!" Junho accuses, pointing wildly at Chansung with the hand not clutching his—perfectly fine—ankle.

Seulong frowns at him. "You need to calm down. You can't just start attacking everyone on the field."

Chansung blinks and gapes. Seulong turns away. Junho looks relieved.

Junho gets on the team. Chansung does too, but he's benched until he proves he's worthy, and he spends his first few practices shivering in the cold, watching Junho on the field and wondering how a stranger's approval could ever mean more to him than a friend.

+

Tenth Grade. March.

They become friends pretty quickly. Junho has newly moved to Seoul from Ilsan, Chansung's best friend moved to America at the end of last year, and they're just happy to find someone new, someone who understands. They're not in the same class but that's okay too, because now they have someone to talk to at lunch time, and there's always next year.

Chansung goes home on the first day of tenth grade with a smile on his face and a new phone number programmed into his phone.

+

+ Jimseungdol (1/2) [2PM]

2013-01-22T12:43:59Z

Title: Jimseungdol
Rating: R (brief gore & sexual situations)
Pairing: Taecyeon/Wooyoung
Word Count: 13,080 words
Notes: Thanks to Kit and Diana and Bek for listening to me complain and offering their support, to my eternal love Michelle for betaing, and to every one of them for their patience—since I actually wrote this for onedaybb and was supposed to post it two months ago. Uh. Yeah. (Also this was written and set when Minjun was still Junsu, so I chose to leave it that way just this one last time.)
Summary: He's been through worse as a simple human. Human. Fully human. Which he's not anymore. Because he's (probably) a werewolf.

+

Taec is almost back at the villa when it happens. He's read about this; he knows that a proportional percentage of accidents occur when the driver is close to home, knows it’s because they tend to let down their guard, but since he's on a bicycle and the article mentioned nothing about giant, furry, terrifying creatures of the night with sharp fangs and glowing red eyes, he'd honestly thought he was safe.

How wrong he was.

He doesn't even see it coming. One second he's stopped at a corner two blocks from his lonely, loyal bed, responding to a drunken and very damning text from Seulong, and the next his hip feels like it's been caught in a mincer and he's being yanked off his bike. It crashes out from underneath him and he nearly gets pinned under it but his attacker pulls again and it's the most acute agony he's ever experienced, sharp and deep and overwhelming, radiating outwards from his hip all throughout his body.

Pain. There's only pain. The scenery is rushing by as he's dragged down an alleyway, across concrete and broken glass, further and further into the dark, and suddenly Taec realises—he might die tonight.

From a dog attack.

He'll be the lamest idol in history.

Reflexes kicking in way too late, he flails his arms out for something, anything, to defend himself with, but there's nothing, just dead space, and all he achieves are more scrapes to his hands and arms. But then, suddenly, there's something solid, and he wraps his right arm around it, holding on for dear life. The sudden stop in motion makes the creature jolt and pitch forwards and fucking hell, he'd thought it hurt before but now he can make out the individual teeth puncturing his flesh, can feel how the grip of the creature's jaw has briefly loosened, can feel its’ tongue. He grits his teeth, forcing back the bile and accompanying wave of dizziness, and only gets a brief look into its eyes (blood red and glittering with a strange sort of… intelligence?) before his hand darts out and he digs his fingers into the creature's eye sockets, curling in, feeling eyeball squelching under his fingernails. The creature howls, immediately letting go of Taec and backing up, shaking its head from side to side, before it slips further into the shadows and all Taec can hear is the receding sounds of little pained whimpers and clacking claws on concrete, until he can't hear anything at all.

+

He has no idea how he gets back to the villa.

Honestly, all he can really process is pain and blood. He must have staggered back to his bike because it's helping to keep him upright when he gets home and he obviously remembered to grab his phone because he's clutching it like a lifeline but he doesn't realise that until he's back, until he has no use for it anymore. He makes it inside as quietly as possible while he's bleeding and limping and trying to hold on a chunk of his own flesh and makes it all the way to the bathroom before he allows himself to rest, flicking down the lid of the toilet and collapsing onto it. The position sends more pain lancing up his side but he just curls his fingers around the bottom of the toilet seat and waits for it to pass, because his legs won't hold up any longer and this is his only choice.

Once the majority of the nausea passes he finally looks down, shaky hands prising the shreds of his favourite Superman t-shirt out of the wound. Each puncture is oozing blood, rivers of red sliding down into the waistband of his jeans every time he moves, and he lets out a grunt as his finger accidentally catches on a flap of skin.

"Fuck," he breathes slowly. What does he even do now? Where does he go from here? He should probably go to the hospital, get stitches and a rabies shot or something, but since he's just had a whole stint in hospital for his arm he's reluctant to go back. It might not even be that deep, maybe it's not even that bad. Taking a breath, he looks down again—it's still oozing.

Oozing probably isn't a good thing.

But even if he did go to the hospital, what would he say? A giant dog attacked him? Then what? The press and the netizens get ahold of it and say he's just trying to gain sympathy to make up for Khun's scandal or something?

No. It's much better for everyone if he just stays home and—

He freezes. There's a thump from the hallway, followed by footsteps and—

The feet pause. "What the hell, man?" he hears a voice say in terrible, accented English.

Wooyoung's home. Taec glances around frantically, trying to find something, anything, to cover up his wounds, but then the feet start up again and the bathroom door flies open and Wooyoung pokes his head inside.

"Hyung, why is there blood…" He trails off as he takes in Taec's appearance and his mouth presses into a thin line. "What happened?"

"Uh," Taec says weakly, "I tripped?"

Wooyoung is not impressed.

+

On Wooyoung's orders, Taec strips down and takes a shower, not using soap and careful to wash out the bite. His other injuries aren't actually anywhere near as bad as they should be—there's only minimal scraping, and his arm has pulled up remarkably well considering he'd been holding on so tightly it felt like it was going to break all over again. Still, he's grateful that there aren't going to be any shirtless photoshoots in his near future. Explaining a bite mark so close to his groin would be a nightmare for everyone involved.

Once he has washed and dried and wrapped a towel delicately around his waist, Wooyoung comes back in with medical supplies and takes up the spot on the toilet. Taec moves over to him and watches as he prepares antiseptic and a bandage, watches the tired slant of his eyes under the stage make-up he hasn't washed off yet, watches the way he fumbles with the gauze. He wonders how long Wooyoung has been awake.

"You should go and get some sleep," Taec says quietly. "I can take care of this."

Wooyoung spares a moment to send him a scathing glare. "If you could then you'd go to the hospital."

"Why do I need a doctor when I've got my Wooyoungie's healing hands?" he coos, reaching down to tug on Wooyoung's tiny ear.

Wooyoung shakes him off and balances everything on his lap, wrapping his hand around Taec's hip and bringing him closer. His fingers are warm and he holds on tightly as he angles Taec's body towards the light. He leans in and inspects the wound, eying it critically, and Taec tries not to react and make things awkward when he feels Wooyoung's breath fanning over his stomach.

"It doesn't seem to go too deep," Wooyoung reports, reaching down for the bandage. He applies the cream to it and presses it gently over the bite, fingertips holding it in place as he adds strips of tape to hold it down. Then he stands and lifts Taec's arm, checking his other abrasions. He reaches again for the antiseptic but Taec beats him to it, grinning and shaking it at him.

"I've got it from here." Wooyoung's eyes narrow, but then he nods and sets about tidying up. Taec's just seeing to the last scrape on his shoulder when he catches Wooyoung's gaze in the mirror. Wooyoung stares steadily at him. Taec relents. "I have a check-up in a few days," he lies. "When they're done with my arm I'll ask about the bite. Okay?"

That seems to satisfy him. "Clean up the blood in the hall," he says, and then he leaves.

"Love you too," Taec calls fondly.

+

When Taec wakes up, he can tell immediately from the harried footsteps in the hall that they're running late. This has happened way too many times since Khun's activities were halted, and Taec doubts that any of them realised how much they'd miss Khun's nagging. He makes a sluggish mental note to check on Khun later and groans as he adjusts to the fact that it's day time. His limbs are slow to respond to his brain's commands to move, and he gropes around for a full thirty seconds before finally finding his glasses. He shoves them on and kicks off the blankets, hauling himself up and staggering out his room with his eyes still mostly closed. He's memorised the trip to the bathroom for this very purpose and the others know to stay out of his way this early in the morning so there are no roadblocks at all, and he manages to finish his business and turn to the sink before he has to open more than half an eye. (Junsu left his razor out once and Taec ended up with a sliced-open finger, so he's not willing to take any chances. There's been enough of his own blood outside his body for a lifetime by now.) He prises open his other eye, trying to adjust to the harsh light, and one hand is halfway up to pick the hardened, crusty sleep out of the corner of his eye when he realises he can't actually see anything.

He blinks. Adjusts his glasses. Blinks again.

But everything is still blurry. It's like that time he forgot he was wearing contacts and put his glasses on over the top, only this time he's definitely not wearing contacts, so...

"What the hell?" he breathes. He steps backwards. It's the same. He leans in. The same again. He takes his glasses off to clean them.

It's perfect.

He frowns. He rubs his eyes. He shakes his head.

It's still perfect.

Taec got bitten by a dog, and woke up with 20/20 vision.

He'd say it was a dream but since Ha Jiwon isn't lounging on the counter next to him in a negligee crooning Gee, he knows it must be real life.

For a moment he's distracted by his new power of sight, staring into the mirror and wondering if the pores on his nose have always been that big, when there's a thumping on the door and Wooyoung's voice drifts through the wood.

"Yah, hyung, hurry up. Junho's doing his hair in the other bathroom and I really need to go."

"Wooyoung," Taec says, and it's like a revelation, because Wooyoung will have a rational explanation for this. He'll tell Taec he's being a dick and explain how in excruciating detail and then they'll both be able to continue on with their lives.

Yes. Wooyoung is the key.

Without wasting another second, Taec dashes to the door, unlocks it and wrenches it open, dragging him inside.

"Yah, what—" Wooyoung gets out before Taec backs him against the door and steps close.

"Wow," he says, "your pores are even bigger than mine."

Wooyoung shoves him away and rubs his hand self-consciously over his chin. "What's wrong with you? Are you finished?"

Taec grabs his BB cream bottle and shoves it at Wooyoung. "Ask me to read this."

Wooyoung blinks. "Are you crazy?"

"Yah, just—" Taec leaves it at arm's length and starts read the tiny writing on the back out loud. He trails off when he gets halfway and looks up to see Wooyoung's reaction.

Wooyoung's arms are folded. Wooyoung's mouth is a thin line. Wooyoung's eyes are decreeing him more and more insane with each passing moment.

"Wooyoung-ah," Taec says meaningfully, "I'm not wearing my contacts."

His judgment face warps into one of confusion. "What—"

"I'm not lying, look!" He shoves his face into Wooyoung's personal space, widening his eyes. "Nothing!"

"Yah," Wooyoung says again, ducking under his arms and stepping away. "What are you trying to do? Is this a hidden camera? Did anything really even happen to you last night?" He grabs at Taec's wifebeater and rucks it up, peeling off the bandage before Taec can stop him. Taec cringes, expecting pain, but after the slight pull of the medical tape against his skin there's... nothing.

Curious, Taec looks down and there's—

Nothing.

There really is nothing.

"What the fuck," he breathes.

Wooyoung flings the bloodied bandage (there is blood there, real blood, his blood, from his body, but his skin is completely untouched or healed or something, what the fuck) and looks up at Taec accusingly. Something must convince him of Taec's innocence though because his expression quickly changes again, this time into one of disbelief.

"So you believe me?" Taec says, trying not to sound as desperate as he feels.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You're not that good an actor," Wooyoung says, tone clipped, hands still pressing into Taec's hip, fingernails digging in a little, like a puppy's teeth. Taec could be offended but he's still in shock, still trying to figure out what the fuck, and Wooyoung's touch is warm and familiar so he leans into it, concentrating on forcing their breathing to match.

Which is how Chansung finds them when he walks in five seconds later. They both look up at him, he looks at them, and everything's still for another moment before Wooyoung clears his throat, removes his hands from under Taec's top, and brushes out of the room with his head held high.

Chansung raises an eyebrow.

Taec shrugs, hoping he manages to seem something approaching normal. "My side hurts, I needed some TLC."

"So you asked Wooyoung?"

Taec shrugs again, but then Junsu (of all people) yells about them being late, which sets them all into action and saves Taec from any further explanation.

+

Taec only half-listens to the conversations in the van. Wooyoung (sitting as far away from him as possible) is talking about internet shopping with Junho, who's next to Taec but leaning dangerously over the back of the seat. Junsu's on his iPad beside Wooyoung, Chansung's in the very front on the phone to Khun, and Taec is trying very hard not to think about how he clearly he can read the number plates of those cars that must be at least a kilometre away. He also has one headphone in, music pumping into his left ear (he's not sure if 2AM's ballads can technically 'pump' but they're his go-to soundtrack when he's feeling melancholy), which is why, when Wooyoung asks Junsu a question about his expenditure and Junsu seemingly responds to him so earnestly, Taec shouldn't immediately know that—

"He's lying." He stops, forcing his mouth shut, because he didn't mean to say anything, didn't even know it was coming, and when he turns to face Junsu in the back seat he's looking about as scandalised as Taec feels.

"Yah!" he shouts, and Junho shoots him a dirty look because Junsu's yelling is always ten times louder than it needs to be. "What are you saying about your hyung, you punk?"

"I don't even know," Taec says, shaking his head. "I wasn't even listening, I just..." How had he been so sure? He glances at Wooyoung, who is looking at him for the first time since the bathroom, and shrugs helplessly.

"Hyung," Wooyoung says suddenly, shaking Junsu's shoulder, "were you really lying?"

Junsu's eyes widen even further. "How could you accuse me of that? I wouldn't lie to my favourite dongsaeng!"

Wooyoung pulls a face. "Even I know you're lying now."

Junsu smacks his arm and continues ranting but Taec tunes out again, not concentrating on his words, trying to feel out the atmosphere...

And there it is. It's faint, but it's there, and it takes him a while longer to figure out exactly what it is but—it's Junsu's heartbeat. Every time he lies the beat changes, skips, and Taec can hear it. If he concentrates enough he can kind of feel the others too—Junho's rising annoyance, Wooyoung's carefully hidden confusion, Chansung's concern for Khun, even Juseob hyung's amusement and tiredness from the driver's seat.

It's overwhelming, this whole thing, these things he shouldn't be able to do, shouldn't know, shouldn't feel, and for a moment he gets lost in it, everything else fading away and then he's panicking, doesn't know what to do or how to stop or even who he is anymore—

"Hyung?"

Taec jolts, his music and Junsu's complaints and Chansung's low murmurs fade back in like nothing happened, and after he blinks a few times he comes to focus on Wooyoung, whose hand is on his shoulder as he leans across Junsu.

"Yah, you're hurting me!" Junsu whines, elbowing Wooyoung, but Wooyoung doesn't move.

"He's lying again," Taec tells him.

"I know," Wooyoung says.

+

It happens all day. Taec's enhanced vision seems permanent but his hearing drops in and out like a badly-tuned radio, and it doesn't take him long to realise that the whole recognising-people's-emotions thing is linked to his sense of smell.

It's fucking strange and really, really inconvenient, because it's so utterly distracting. Thankfully they spend the say doing a photoshoot, so he can afford to zone out a few times, but it's possible the Real 2PM camera caught him doing something weird. (It's just as well he's always strange, really, because anything he did probably won't even seem out of the ordinary.)

Wooyoung keeps trying to talk to him, tries to get him alone all day, assumingly so they can discuss what happened in the van, but it's impossible between the members, managers and coordis. And now, well, now they're finally back at the villa but Taec is exhausted and he heads directly for his room as soon as he kicks his shoes off, dropping his backpack next to his bed and climbing in, eyelids already drooping.

He hears his door open but he pretends to be asleep, and after another moment's hesitation it closes again and then he really is asleep.

+

The next morning, Taec realises that the scar on his arm is gone.

Actually, so are all his souvenirs he attained from his exploits from all throughout his life (including that one on his inner thigh he got when he was six and wanted to find out how fast you could go down a hill on your bike, and made his friend do it but didn't get out of the way at the bottom quickly enough), but the arm one… is a big deal.

It was so public, everyone knows about it, and there's no way people won't notice that it's gone, especially considering the ridiculous investigative power of the netizens. He can wear long-sleeved tops for a while, possibly long enough to claim he had plastic surgery in the interim, but then he'll be That Idol. The one that was vain enough to get (highly improbable, but that's another story altogether) surgery on a scar that has absolutely no bearing on his ability to work. He's had quite enough unnatural alterations made to his body at this point, which is exactly why he's never done anything about his teeth. Or his ears. And how will he even begin to explain it to the other members, to management? Any and all physical alterations have to be approved and signed off on or else, and something like this has the potential to get him into deep shit.

God, he really wishes he knew what the fuck is happening to him right now.

The fact is, though, that he has a schedule today, so, like all personal matters, it has to be swept aside and forgotten about in favour of spending the day filming a CF for Reebok shoes.

At least it takes his mind off things. They film for twenty hours straight and while he's not necessarily needed for the entire time he keeps himself busy, and by the end of it he's not even tired (although constantly mentioning to every person within listening distance how he had his scar covered up with make-up is in itself enough to get him halfway there). He's not sure if these energy levels have something to do with the other… things that have been happening to him, but he's quite happy to just take this one at face value.

He gets back to the villa early in the morning, when Wooyoung and Junsu have already left for a recording and Chansung and Junho are just getting ready for bed, but it doesn't even occur to him that he shouldn't even know those things so instinctively until he gets into his room and is reaching into his mini-fridge for a Monster and suddenly, his hearing kicks it up a notch.

"—asked Ongie-hyung," Junho is saying, in his bedroom on the floor above, although it feels like he's right next to Taec, "and he said we should parody Twilight next."

Chansung giggles in that way that only Chansung can. "Khunnie is Edward," he says gleefully.

"That's what Hyung suggested," Junho agrees, and Taec marvels at how he can hear Junho fish his phone out of his pocket, even swipe his thumb across the screen. "He says Taec-hyung should be the the werewolf and I should be the girl."

He sounds unimpressed but Chansung laughs some more, and Taecyeon somehow manages to tune them out and decides to forgo the Monster—his body does not need to be any more stimulated than it obviously is.

"Sleep," he mutters, because sleep is always the answer.

He's in his sweat pants and all bundled up in his sheet (his usual blanket is suddenly too warm for him, the weather must be changing), his breath evening out and his eyes becoming heavy, before he suddenly bolts upright and realises—

Werewolf.

Werewolf.

He reaches for his laptop.

+

Just as well Taec has always enjoyed wasting time online. It takes hours, but he finds out about the bite, packs, full moons, alphas, abilities and weaknesses, silver, wolfsbane, hunters, the history of lycanthropy, the transformation of werewolves... and by the time his alarm goes off to wake him up from what should have been a deep slumber, his brain is a jumble of conflicting rumours, outlandish fairytales, and ridiculous porn (not his fault. Apparently bestiality is a kink of a lot of people, and just—not his fault).

Forty-four hours without sleep.

He's been through worse as a simple human.

Human. Fully human. Which he's not anymore. Because he's (probably) a werewolf.

He pauses for a moment, shifting his laptop down onto his stomach so he can take a deep breath and wonder… Why isn't he more upset about this? Why isn't he freaking out? Why isn't he thinking this all some sort of long-winded hallucination, that he's being drugged or has a brain tumour? Is it because deep down inside, he knows it's true? Is it because he'd much prefer to be a werewolf than dying of an aggressive, cancerous tumour? Lesser of two evils, maybe. Or something.

He shakes his head, stretching his limbs and rubbing his eyes and just generally trying to get his body to work when there's a short knock on his door.

"Yo," he calls, and Khun pokes his head inside.

"Were you awake all night?" he asks suspiciously.

"Night is a relative term, Khunnie-boy."

Khun frowns. "I don't even know what that means."

"Neither do I," he admits, grinning. He closes his laptop and puts it on the ground, shuffling up the bed and patting the empty space with his foot.

Khun slips in and closes the door behind him, picking his way around the things strewn over Taec's floor to drop down onto the bed, scooting up against the footboard. He stretches his legs out and so does Taec, draping his over Khun's. Khun rolls his eyes but doesn't move.

"I'm going to Africa," Khun tells him. It takes a few seconds for Taec's addled brain to process that he's speaking in English.

"For a program?"

Khun nods slowly. "Yeah. I wasn't… I didn't know if I should. The backlash… I don't know." He looks up at Taec, and it almost seems like Taec can smell his apprehensiveness. Taec feels guilty for a moment, because with all the stuff that's been happening with him lately, he hasn't spent nearly as much time with Khun as he should. He knows Khun understands, knows that really, Khun is okay, but he just wishes this could all be over already. He wants Khun back.

"I think you've punished yourself enough. I think now you need to move on and do what you think is right." He pokes at Khun's thigh with his toes.

"Yeah. I mean I've always wanted to go, and now I can, so I should, right? Something good can come from this. Even if other people won't see it that way."

"Who cares what other people think," Taec says. "I don't. We can't. They don't know you. The only people that matter are the ones that do know you, and you have nothing to prove to them."

Khun's silent for a long, meaningful moment, before he's suddenly wrapping both of his stupidly-long legs around one of Taec's, grabbing his foot and trapping him. "Yah, Ok Taecyeon. Just when I forget why I want to come to you at times like this, you go and say things like that."

"Yah, recently injured person here! Khunnie!" He whines a little, they play fight a little, and then Khun starts laughing, which makes Taec laugh (more from relief than anything else), and they end up side by side on Taec's bed, sharing his pillow. "Maybe I'll come too," Taec blurts. He glances at Khun, who has his 'Ok Taecyeon are you actually thinking about what you're saying' face on. "To Africa."

"Don't get carried away, I know you miss me but there's a lot of people to clear it with first. Not that I would mind if you did, I'm getting sick of my own company." He looks back at the ceiling, concentrating way too hard on it to just be nonchalant, and Taec is hit with a sudden, huge rush of affection and admiration.

They've all been through a lot to get where they are, Khun more than most, and he still hasn't given up. He's here and he's trying to make things work, and no-one has any doubt that he will. It's enough to make Taec feel envious on a good day, but at times like this, when things aren't at their best, he feels inferior for a different reason. Because Khun is strong, he's a fighter, always, he works hard and he's honest and good and Taec likes to think that he is too, but the way he's been reacting to this whole bite thing… It's none of those things. He can't compare himself to Khun right now because Khun is handling this so maturely, and Taec doesn't even have an inch of his virtuousness.

But not any more. This is not who Taec is. He's not going to simply let things happen to him anymore and he's definitely not going to wallow. The 'whys' and 'hows' aren't important, not anymore. If this is his life now, then he's not only going to get used to it, he's going to make the most of it. If Khun can do it, so can he.

"Sometimes this feels so surreal," Khun says finally, breaking into his thoughts.

"I know the feeling," Taec can't help but agree. "I'm glad we have you around though. You're an inspiration to all of us."

He's not even joking, but Khun shoves him off the bed anyway.

+

He decides he's going to test himself, and the perfect opportunity presents itself later that day.

Chansung and Wooyoung are practicing some new acrobatics, and Chansung is hungry and Wooyoung is exhausted so it isn't going very well. Chansung lifts Wooyoung and neither of them are steady and their grip isn't right and Taec can already see it, knows that Wooyoung is going to fall. He’s certain that Wooyoung is going to miss the safety mats and land face-first on the hardwood floor.

He doesn't even think about it. One minute he's watching from across the room and the next Wooyoung is in his arms, blinking as he tries to process the fact that he's tumbled from the sky and hasn't broken something (or everything). Now that Wooyoung is safe Taec allows himself to relax and can suddenly hear the frantic thundering of Wooyoung's heart, the adrenaline-fueled blood rushing through his veins, can smell the fear and shock and relief. Taec presses him against his own body for a brief moment, reassuring him that everything is okay, before gently putting him down. Wooyoung wobbles but straightens up quickly, readjusting his shirt to then glare at Taec.

"What?" Taec says. He knows what Wooyoung's pissed about but Taec's never going to be sorry for helping him, no matter how many other people are around to witness his (probably) superhuman abilities. He turns to Chansung, who hasn't stopped staring open-mouthed since Taec saved the day. "You guys might wanna take a break now, huh." He pats Chansung's cheek and walks away, leaving Wooyoung to answer any of Chansung's questions.

+

"That was really fucking stupid," Wooyoung hisses, letting himself into Taec's room and locking the door behind him. It's been hours since the dance studio but it's the first time they've been alone, and it couldn't have come sooner. Wooyoung hasn't stopped giving him evil looks, and it must be Taec's new werewolf senses or something but it feels like Wooyoung's been burning literal holes in his skull. Taec rubbed his head so often in the van Chansung made him take an aspirin.

"Okay, I'll let you break your neck next time," Taec says agreeably. He'd been experimenting with composing, taking advantage of his better hearing since it decided to kick in again and anything's better than listening to Junsu getting in some rigorous alone time next door. He's grateful for the break though, and he leans right back in his chair, lifting his legs to rest casually on his desk and managing to accidentally kick off his electronic keyboard. It almost goes crashing to the ground but Taec's super awesome reflexes kick in and he saves it in a flash, easily lifting it with one hand and smiling smugly at Wooyoung.

Wooyoung glares even harder. "Stop it," he demands. "Chansung is suspicious."

"Chansungie is the least suspicious person in the world."

"Exactly. So when it does happen, it's serious enough that people will listen." Taec doesn't exactly appreciate Wooyoung's tone, but he knows he has a point, which is why he made sure to complete the rest of his tests in private. (Just so it's clear, yes, it is possible for him to lift their van with his bare hands, but it's okay, because it only takes approximately three minutes of agony for the resulting broken bones and skin to knit themselves back together and heal completely.) Still, he's not going to tell Wooyoung about those, if only because he's pretty sure Wooyoung's going to dislodge a contact with all the glaring he's been doing,

"What are you saying? Our own maknae is going to tell the world that I have super powers?"

Wooyoung's jaw clenches. "What if it hadn't been Chansung?" he persists. "What if it had been someone else, someone more than willing to profit from sharing idol secrets?"

Taecyeon pauses, wondering if there is such a thing as being too candid in this scenario. He says it anyway. "What was I supposed to do? I couldn't let anything happen to you," he says quietly.

Wooyoung blinks, and Taec hears him swallow. His features soften (well, soften for Wooyoung anyway) and he opens his mouth to respond but that's when Taec notices something is off. There's something different in the air, suddenly, something Taec's never smelled before, or perhaps just never been able to sense before. He has no idea what it is but it's Amazing, every scent he loves blended together so exquisitely he can't even begin to pick them apart, it's just—Amazing.

"Can you smell that?" he asks urgently, glancing around the room. "What is that?"

Wooyoung blinks. "What?"

"That scent, that—Amazing Scent, can't you smell it?"

Wooyoung takes a step back. "Is this another weird…" He gestures vaguely at Taec.

"Werewolf thing?" Taec asks distractedly. It's fading, why is it fading, where did it—

But Wooyoung lets out a bark of laughter, drawing his attention back to their conversation, to what Taec just said. Wooyoung's eyes are wide. "What?"

"Oh…" Taec drops his feet from the desk and stands, smiling carefully. "Didn't I tell you? I'm a…" He forms claw shapes with his hands and lets out a snarl.

"You're an idiot," Wooyoung says reflexively, and shakes his head immediately afterwards but doesn't apologise. "I'm supposed to believe that?"

"It explains everything. The enhanced senses, the strength, the speed and healing—"

"Healing?" But the disbelief is replaced with realisation after only a few seconds. "The bite."

"And…" Taec rolls up his left sleeve and shows Wooyoung his perfect, unmarked arm.

He stares for a few moments and then backs away even further. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I, Wooyoung-ah," Taec says. "But this is me now."

Wooyoung shakes his head. "I—" His phone chimes with a message, and they're both kind of relieved that he breaks the tension to check it. "It's Jinyoung-hyung. I have to go." He looks up, seeming torn, but he can't get out the door quickly enough. "Let's talk about this later," he calls.

They don't.

+

It's definitely an oversight, but Taec doesn't really think his enhanced senses in relation to a live performance until they actually have one.

As seems to be the trend these days, the first thing that gets to him is the smell. He's adjusted well enough to the members, has even come to feel comforted by their constant lingering odours (although Wooyoung still definitely smells the best, and Junho still wears too much cologne, mainly because Taec hasn't yet figured out a way of asking him to tone it down that wouldn't be weird), but to be confronted with the stench of so many other idols in the changing rooms backstage, plus the thousands of fans waiting for entrance nearby, that's completely overwhelming. As soon as he steps into the building he's counting down the moments until he can get back outside.

The air around him has turned thick and viscous, seeping into every one of his pores and sinking into his skin, clogging his airways and, shit, now would be a really good time for this selective sense thing to go away again, because there's no way he can perform like this.

He's getting dizzy, he can't breathe, and he barely makes it through Namyong-hyung's pre-performance lecture. Chansung must notice something's wrong, because when the coordi noonas start herding Wooyoung and Junho over to the make-up stations he grabs Taec's hand and pulls him out of the room. He hauls him down the corridor, forces him to bow to some sunbae that Taec doesn't even get the chance to see, and has him out on the roof under the wide, open sky in under two minutes.

Taec doesn't speak, just squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on breathing through his mouth. Slowly, surely, the intensity of the smells fades away, and he's left entirely with smells he recognises, human, immediate smells like pollution and cologne and hair product.

"Thanks," he says, when he eventually feels he can.

"Are you okay now?" Chansung asks worriedly, hovering behind Taec and looking like he wants to come closer but is unsure if he should.

"I think so?" He forces a smile. "Didn't sleep last night."

"Hyung!" Chansung lets out an annoyed sigh and finally moves forward, sliding one hand onto Taec's shoulder and the other onto his forehead. "Aish, you're really hot!"

And the fact that Taec can't even come up with a greasy comeback is perhaps the most concerning of all.

+

Taec is a little loathe to head back inside so soon but they're running out of time, they'll be on soon and he and Chansung still aren't made up. As soon as they enter their dressing room people converge on them, coordis and managers and miscellaneous staff, but thankfully the coordis win out and he has some time to finish calming himself.

He looks so much better after make-up, bags under his eyes completely painted over, and he makes sure to smile widely at Hyesu-noona in thanks. Once they're all ready, they're hauled down another few hallways to an area backstage, and Taec lets himself get dragged along, grateful that Wooyoung has chosen to stick by his side. Chansung keeps giving Taec concerned looks but Junsu is asking him something about the choreography, and once he sees that Wooyoung's looking out for him, Taec can see him relax a little.

As they get closer to the stage the music gets louder, pounding through the floor and walls, and finally they're left somewhere off in the wings, the next group designated to perform. Taec finds somewhere to sit down and rests his head back against the wall. Whatever it was that happened before, the smelling thing, he hopes it never happens again, because that was one of the worst experiences in his life—possibly even worse than getting the bite itself. At least that had been mostly physical, something visceral, something that hadn't taken over his whole brain and felt like it was going to destroy him from the inside.

The music comes to a stop to a stadium full of applause, and that means the group onstage (Secret, is it? Or MBLAQ?) has one song left, which means that he has less than four minutes to pull himself together.

"Don't stop can't stop, 2PM go," he tells himself, and just in the process of standing up when there is one of the most horrific sounds he's ever heard, reverberating in the air and ripping through his head. It's just mic feedback, the tiny intellectual part of his brain reasons, but to the other part, the much bigger part, the part that still hasn't recovered from the smell attack yet, it feels like his brain is skewered. He can feels himself falling, knows that he's caught by someone, but by then all of the other sounds (the fans screaming and cheering and clapping, the music thumping, even the vibrating speakers and the squeaking of shoes on stage) have invaded his head and he can't do much more than let it happen.

Thankfully, this episode is a lot shorter than the last one, and it only takes about thirty seconds for the sounds to fade back down, leaving an uncomfortably empty, echoey sensation in his ears. He tunes back into reality quickly, like someone has flipped a switch, and it's completely disorienting.

"Hyung," Wooyoung is saying urgently, keeping his voice low and shaking his shoulders. "You have to calm down—your eyes, they keep changing colour!"

Well, that's something new. Taec squeezes his eyes shut and feels Wooyoung tug him closer, so that his face is pressed into Wooyoung's chest.

"Can you perform?" Wooyoung asks, his chest vibrating against Taec's cheek, but it's pleasant now, comforting, and all Taec wants to do is nuzzle into it.

This is so not the time.

Taec shakes his head, trying to clear it, but Wooyoung takes it as a no and starts to call over their manager. Taec grabs his shoulder, thumb brushing over his collarbone, relaxing even further at the warmth of Wooyoung's skin against his.

"No, I can—I can do it."

"Are you sure?"

Taec blinks hard, his vision finally clearing, and focuses on Wooyoung's face. He can feel Wooyoung's fluttering pulse under his fingertips, and he shuts everything else out for a few seconds, concentrating on the steady beat.

One. Two. One. Two. One. Two.

He nods once and stands up, only using Wooyoung's shoulder as a lever a little bit. "It'll bring more attention if I don't. Let's just do this." He tucks his earpiece into his ear and nods at the others where they're huddled concernedly around him, just in time for their name to be called, and he leads the way onto the stage.

+

He doesn't remember much about what happens after they finish performing. There are flashes of things, images and sensations and emotions, but he's way too out of it to even begin to process them. When he wakes up he's back in his own bed (he'd know that smell anywhere, even with strictly human senses, and he really needs to remember to get his sheets washed), and when he opens his eyes he sees Wooyoung at his computer, looking up something on Naver.

Taecyeon watches him for a moment, the way his brow furrows and he leans in close to the screen, and then how he exhales slowly and leans back, shifting around in the comfortable seat (thank you, Namyong-hyung) to bring one leg up underneath him. He rubs his eyes, careful of his contacts, and glances over at Taec, doing a double take when he sees that Taec's awake.

"Hello," Taec says softly. "Did you lose Rock Paper Scissors?"

"I volunteered to look after you," Wooyoung responds, not sounding very happy about it. "In case you…" He nods at the computer screen and tilts it towards Taec, showing him a cartoon rendering of a werewolf.

Taec sits up, pushing off his comforter and hauling his legs over the side of the bed. He thinks for a few moments, waiting for the right words to come to him, not wanting to scare Wooyoung off. "So. You… believe me? About the…" He does the snarl-and-claw-hands again, mainly because he likes Wooyoung's scornful eye-rolling when he does.

"I don't know what to believe." He pauses and leans back in his seat, quiet, just as cautious as Taec. "There's a full moon tomorrow," he adds carefully.

"I know."

"Do you know what will happen?"

"More of today?" Taec offers, shrugging. "Worse than today?" Wooyoung frowns, seeming unhappy with Taec's cavalier attitude, but it's not like he can allow himself to act in any other way. To really think about what it means not to be human, to understand all the ways in which he'll never be the same again, is to process the fact that he is now something nightmares are made of. Maybe Chansung could meditate about it, could comprehend and accept and hope much better than he can, and maybe Taec will be able to in the future, but right now he has to survive things one step at a time. Softly softly catchee monkey. "Will you be there to look after me, Wooyoungie?"

"I guess I have to." He turns back to the computer, staring at the image of the werewolf, zooming in and out on various parts of its body—red eyes, bloodied claws, long sharp teeth. He swallows. Taec watches his throat, fascinated by the movement of his adam's apple and the little beads of sweat he can see sliding from his temple, over his cheekbones and jaw to collect at his neck.

It's not hot in Taec's room, but Wooyoung reeks of worry and fear and anxiousness.

Taec hates that Wooyoung is feeling like this because of him.

"No you don't," he says softly, because he deserves a way out and Taec will always make sure he has one.

Wooyoung doesn't even hesitate a second before responding. "Yes I do." He swivels his chair back again, holding Taec's gaze, and there's something else there, something new in the scent he's giving off, and Taec tries not to look too thankful because he knows Wooyoung wouldn't appreciate it. They keep watching each other for a while, neither of them seeming all that inclined to break the moment, but then Wooyoung suddenly kicks a leg out at him and pulls a face. "Shut up and sleep."

"You could sleep with me," Taec offers.

Nothing.

"In case you need it, my porn's in a folder called 'Wooyoung's Secret Girlfriend'."

He manages to deflect the shoe Wooyoung throws at him with his blanket just in time.

+

When Wooyoung wakes him up the next the morning he's awake so immediately it's almost shocking. He can't remember the last time he woke up without needing at least a half hour adjustment period—some time before puberty, surely—but this time, as soon as his eyelids slide open, that's it. Instant consciousness and coherency.

Actually it's more than that—he's jittery and wired, thrumming with energy and untapped power, and he doesn't want to do anything but he also wants to everything at once, like one thing at a time isn't enough anymore. His hands shake as he brushes his teeth and he can't sit still in the van, and he keeps saying things he doesn't mean, snapping out insults and picking fights, and it's like he can't control himself properly, like his brain-to-mouth/hands/everything filter has been taken away overnight. He's never felt like this before, not after any performance, not when he accidentally electrocuted himself trying to DIY his bedroom wiring, not when he halved an E that time with his best friend in America.

He can't remember how he usually acts, can't even spare the time to think about pretending to be normal, which means that Wooyoung is probably having to makes up a lot of excuses for him right now, but he doesn't care.

Things like 'duty' and 'responsibility' aren't weighing very heavily on his mind right now.

It gets a little better when they finally reach the studio to film their CF and he finally has something to channel his energy into, although he's never despised the obscene amount of waiting involved on any film set more than he has now. Junsu's listening to music in the corner and Junho is talking to one of the ever-lurking Real 2PM cameras with Wooyoung and Chansung's bonding with the Husky they're filming with, cooing to it through its too-small cage. It's really hot, and the studio lights and giant puffy jackets they've been forced into don't help, so he decides to slip out for a while.

He passes Chansung on the way out and the dog sniffs at him curiously. He growls and feels his eyes flash (they glow an incandescent amber when he's out of control now, fucking awesome) and the dog whines and tries to roll over and bare its throat, but it loses balance and knocks the whole cage over instead. Taec chuckles as Chansung and the dog's trainer rush to help.

Dogs are so stupid.

+

"I never thought I'd be the one saying this to someone else, but that was really mean," Wooyoung says from behind him.

Taec's found a small room down the hall, empty save for old cleaning equipment shoved in one corner, and he's taking the opportunity to burn off some of his ridiculous energy, alternating between situps and pushups on the floor. He probably shouldn't get too sweaty or the coordis will kick his ass (at least he had the foresight to strip off everything but his pants), but he feels like he's going crazy so he can't really bring himself to care.

"It's just a dog," he huffs. "You don't even like dogs."

"It's still a living thing," Wooyoung insists, although he sounds much more committed to actually arguing with Taec than the argument itself.

"You don't even like living things!"

"Yes but I don't not like them in public! I not like them in the privacy of my own home, like any decent idol should."

Taec sighs and stops, levering himself up and taking the bottle of water Wooyoung hands to him. He does a few basic stretches as he drinks, testing out his muscles, and it feels better, the frenetic electrical current a little less insistent under his skin, but everything is still dissatisfying, he's still hyperaware and buzzed and restless.

"I told Juseob-hyung you weren't feeling well."

Taec grins and hands the drink back. "You're so good to me, Wooyoung-ah."

"Not really, I said you had diarrhea." It's actually a pretty good excuse, because no-one ever wants to know more about it, so Taec lets it go. Wooyoung watches as he reaches down to grab his tank top, using it to wipe the sweat from his body. "It's bad today," he observes.

"Like you said, full moon," Taec says. "Although if it's like this every…" He trails off. He trails off because there it is again—the Amazing Scent. "Okay, tell me you can smell that now."

"If you mean your gross sweaty body odour then yes, I can, please use Chansung's deodorant before you come back to filming."

"No, not that, it's…" He shakes his head as the smell gets stronger, filling the tiny room, seeping into all of his pores. "It must be the," he pulls the werewolf face and steps closer to Wooyoung, and it—gets stronger. "I think it's you," Taec says, leaning in to sniff at him.

"I do not smell!" Wooyoung shoves him away, horrified, but Taec persists, pressing closer, the tip of his nose running down Wooyoung's neck.

"It's not bad," Taec reassures him. "It's Amazing, I told you." He doesn't know why he hasn't linked it to Wooyoung before, but it's even better directly from his skin, Taec can't even begin to describe it, he doesn't even know how. He keeps sniffing, up behind Wooyoung's ear, where not even the stench of his hair product can disguise it, and down again to his collarbone, where he pulls the neck of Wooyoung's t-shirt away to give him a cursory lick.

Wooyoung freezes. "Did you just… you licked me," he says stonily.

Taec blinks, registering his words, because Wooyoung tastes—

"Wow," Taec says, a little dazed, and licks him again, longer this time, right across the bone to end at the point of his shoulder. "Wooyoung-ah."

"Please tell me this is a werewolf thing," Wooyoung grits out, strained and tense but not completely against what's happening, Taec would be able to feel that, and he likes to think that even in this frame of mind, he has enough control over himself to stop—especially when it concerns someone as important as Wooyoung. But it's fine, surely he's used to people (coughChansungcough) licking him by now anyway, so Taec starts rucking up Wooyoung's shirt. He only wants to taste some more, to see if it's just as delicious everywhere else, it's for science really, but that's when Wooyoung finally objects, shaking himself a little in Taec's grip. "Yah, hyung!"

Taec stops, Wooyoung's arm lifted up over their heads, one hand encircling Wooyoung's wrist as the other presses fingertips into his ribs, and shakes his head, considering pleading with him for just a little more but then—

"The photographer is ready," a voice calls from outside, and Taec reluctantly drops Wooyoung's arm. He's not embarrassed, although he knows he will be tomorrow, when this whole stupid thing is over, and Wooyoung's probably feeling weird about it so he steps back, gives him space.

They're quiet for a moment. Wooyoung avoids his eyes, pulling his shirt back down, rubbing the fabric over his skin as if to wipe away Taec's saliva.

Taec quashes the overwhelming (and quite disturbing) urge to dive onto him and lick him all over again. Instead, he props himself against the wall to start putting on his shoes and socks. When he's done he looks up to see Wooyoung watching him, still as far away as possible, frowning like he's the most difficult puzzle in the world.

"Time to smile and look pretty," Taec says, giving a winning grin.

Wooyoung's frown deepens. "Don't try too hard," he bites out, before striding out of the room, leaving Taec to finish getting dressed.

"Everyone, I wish you could smell Wooyoungie," Taec tells the Real 2PM camera conspiratorially (but still loud enough for Wooyoung to hear), snagging it as they get back into the studio. "He smells better than a field of daisies."

Wooyoung steps on his foot a total of seven times during the photoshoot.

+

The rest of the day gets progressively worse. What started as something weird but could be passed off as playful just keeps escalating. He can't focus, everything annoys him, and he has never been more aware of his environment, of time passing, of the moon. It's like he can feel it, deep down in his bones, the pull of the moon as it works towards rising, and he gets antsier and angrier the later it gets.

For once, Wooyoung isn't helping either. Even when he's not doing anything, when he's just standing around talking to the photographer, or going through some choreography with Junho, or stretching his shoulders, the urge to smell him, to taste him and mark him, only intensifies.

Taec is aware, of course he is, that it's the moon, it's the wolf, that everything is screwed up and he can't tell what's real, but that doesn't stop him from imagining himself tackling Wooyoung to the ground and pressing him down, stripping him and touching him and—

He has to go outside for some air.

He signals Chansung that he's going out and ducks away before he gets a response. Earlier he noticed a small alcove outside that some smokers were using, so he hurries down the corridor and ducks out, leaning against the wall and tilting his head back, trying to think of anything but Wooyoung.

Breathe in, breathe out. Focus on analysing the collection of scents in the air: pollution; rotting garbage; cigarette smoke and stale perfume of the two women around the corner. Separate and identify the different sounds: the beating of a bird's wings; the scuttling feet of baby mice; distant traffic; the low tones of conversation from the women—

"—drink driving," the first is saying, and Taec immediately tenses up. She takes a long drag on her cigarette before passing it to the other one. "He should go to jail."

"No-one died," the second points out, "and he's taking time to reflect."

"Just because he's an idol, they let him get away with it," the first says snidely. "He's probably not even sorry."

It undoes everything, and his rage overflows between one second and the next, and he can already feel his body Changing, the wolf inside demanding to get out, circling and howling and thirsty for blood and oh fuck, he should have tuned out earlier, shouldn't have listened in the first place, he can't do this, not ever, but especially not here, not now, he can't. But he can feel it happening, his blunt human nails extending into long pointed claws, his ears twitching and pointing up and out (getting bigger), his teeth elongating. He slams his eyes shut, gripping wall behind him so hard he can feel it cracking under his fingertips, wills himself to concentrate on something else, anything else, anything so that he won't change, and he casts his new senses out, letting him feel everything, and then finally—

A relentless thump...thump...thump drowns out all his other senses and impulses, and he latches onto it, focusing everything on that steady, unwavering heartbeat. He inhales deeply, exhales slowly, matching his rhythm to the soothing beat of Wooyoung's heart, and finally opens his eyes.

This is getting very out of control.

+

It's a relief when they finally finish, but then he has to sit in the van. In the enclosed van, with his smelly, loud members. With Wooyoung, who tries to sit next to him in the van. Who Taec ignores and pushes in front of to ride shotgun.

He can see Wooyoung in the side mirror, just before he finally slides the door home and they peel out of the car park. He's frowning. He looks unsettled. Taec tries not to feel too guilty and pulls out his phone.

I'm sorry, he types, you should probably stay away from me tonight~

He can hear Wooyoung's phone when it vibrates, smell Wooyoung's curiosity when he sees who it's from. There's a few moments of nothing, of the others shifting in their seats, bunking down for the ride back to the dorm. They're actually all quiet for once, reading or listening to music, tired and subdued, and for that Taec is resoundingly grateful.

Fine, Taec receives back.

He puts in headphones, but he listens to Wooyoung's heartbeat the whole way home.

+

When they get home it gets worse. It's late, later, the moon inching its way higher in the sky, close, closer, and Taec heads directly for his bedroom. He locks himself in, moves a heavy box of old fangifts in front of the door, and dives into his bed, rolling himself up tight in his comforter, squeezing his eyes shut—not that it helps. He's hot but he's cold and his head is thumping with clarity. He's shaking with his attempts at stillness and his senses are really warped, and then Junho starts his drum practice upstairs, every thump-boom-crash of the drumsticks feeling like a strike to his own brain, and he's done.

He loses control.

He Changes.

It's a long drop to the ground, but Taec throws himself out of the window with no hesitation.

The moon is calling.

+

>

+ Jimseungdol (2/2) [2PM]

2013-01-22T12:39:12Z

<

+

Taec wakes up with a headache and without any pants.

He doesn't realise either of those things at first, because consciousness comes incredibly slowly. It takes him a long time to adjust to being awake, even longer than usual, and he spends an indeterminate amount of time silent, still, willing his brain to function enough to let him move.

Eyes first, he decides. He needs to know where he is, what he is, how he is. Assess the damage, go from there.

Right.

Slowly, carefully, he opens his eyes.

It's not bright. The sun hasn't risen yet, although it must be close, so while it takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, this is when he comprehends his lack of pants. Or shoes. Or shirt. Thankfully, he still has his Calvin Klein boxers, as filthy as they are, and for a moment he's struck with the almost-amusing thought that he was probably the best-dressed werewolf in Seoul last night. Assuming there are more. Which there most likely are. Along who god knows what other supernatural creatures hungering for human flesh...

Which are thoughts to repress until another time.

He levers himself up, gently, into a sitting position, leaning against a wall, and tries to figure out where he is. It doesn't take long for him to recognise that it's the alleyway he was dragged into when he was first bitten.

Which is really, really creepy.

Taec shivers. Why would he ever come back here? Maybe his wolf-self had just been driven by instinct. Maybe it went to the last place it saw its maker, its, well, Alpha, in the hope of seeing it again. He's pretty sure he read that wolves are supposed to be very pack-oriented, very hierarchy-bound, and while he doesn't know how much crossover there is with werewolves their basic drives are surely similar.

Which apparently also applies to hunting, because he looks down at himself and there's… that's blood, blood all over his hands, caked and dried under his fingernails. For a moment he's frozen, images playing on horrifying repeat in his mind: his claws ripping into human flesh, easier than slicing through butter; his teeth tearing muscle and fat apart in strips; his tongue tingling, savouring the tang of—

But then he notices a pile of carcasses next to him, tiny bones, too small to be anything but rodents or birds. His stomach churns. He's not going to look close enough to find out which.

He takes a breath.

He really needs to get away from here. He needs to go home, now.

Stretching his legs out in front of him, he wiggles his toes, testing sensation, before levering himself up, once more using the dumpster as support. They're a little unsteady, but workable. He shakes them out and glances around, hoping there's some kind of material, anything he could use to cover himself for the trip back to the dorms. He'll have to chance it and go back on foot—he hasn't got a phone, and even if he did call someone, how would he explain this? He'd be drawing far too much attention to himself.

So something to cover himself up. There's nothing useful in the dumpster itself, but there are several promising-looking bulging plastic bags stacked beside it. Further inspection proves that it's a bunch of ladies' wear, but amongst the skirts and dresses are a stripy hoodie and neon pink sweatpants. They're way too small but they cover all the necessary parts, and the hood comes down far enough over his eyes so that he even has some sort of a disguise happening.

He hobbles back towards the dorm, shoeless and nervous.

There aren't many people around yet though, and he looks so strange that people are avoiding him on purpose (Fashion Terrorist Ok Taecyeon, he can't help but think), so his journey is uneventful and relatively quick.

It's an effort trying to convince dorm security that he is who he says he is, but the guard on duty is the one whose daughter is his fan, who he signed a selca for as a Christmas gift last year, so even that is easier than it could've been. Which he's beyond grateful for, because his head feels like it's going to explode, his joints feel like they're going to shatter with each movement, and when he finally gets inside he goes directly into his room so he can collapse on his bed and—

There's someone in his bed.

The covers are pulled around their head but he can see a tuft of blond peeking out.

"Wooyoung-ah," Taec tries to say, but his throat burns and his words crack. He moves closer, leaning over the bed, speaking directly into Wooyoung's ear. "Wooyoung-ah."

Wooyoung's eyes fly open and his head jerks back. "Oh my God!" Wooyoung exclaims, in cute but heavily-accented English, before switching back to Korean. "Yah, where were you? You smell terrible, what happened?" Taec opens his mouth to answer, his breath fanning over Wooyoung's face, and Wooyoung pulls an exaggerated expression of pain, scrabbling up Taec's bed and pointing to the other side of the room. "Aish, just tell me from over there, what were you doing?"

Taec doesn't move away or tell Wooyoung anything. Instead, he does what he planned on in the first place and throws himself on the bed, on Wooyoung, landing with an "Oof!" from both of them.

"Yah, Ok Taecyeon, move your ass!" Wooyoung whines, kicking his legs out in a tantrum, but Taec just ignores him, pressing him deeper into the bed and nuzzling into his neck. Wooyoung immediately stills.

They're quiet for a few moments.

"I hate this," Taecyeon says quietly. He doesn't know what he's looking for exactly, what he wants from Wooyoung, but Wooyoung seems to, and Taec is unreasonably comforted by the way Wooyoung manoeuvres an arm out to awkwardly pat him on the hip.

"Me too," Wooyoung tells him.

"Maybe it's good I'm going to Italy," Taec muses. "I can get away from all this a while. I can figure everything out."

"You're still going?"

"I have to, it'll be weird if I don't."

There's another silence, and Taec focuses on Wooyoung's breathing, on the steady beat of his heart, allowing himself to completely relax for the first time in days.

Wooyoung finally breaks the moment. "Okay seriously, Hyung, go and shower. This is really disgusting."

When Taec rolls off him he makes sure to dig his elbows in.

+

Being on a plane is like experiencing a massive sensory overload.

First class is something that he will never take for granted, but right now it makes no difference to his comfort, and the thousands of scents and sounds of the passengers, not to mention the plane itself, are screwing with him. He feels light-headed. He feels strung out, stretched thin. Like his brain is going to vibrate out of his skull.

A torturous hour after take off, he can tell his manager is getting worried, he's just about ready ready ready to punch himself in the face in the name of finally getting a rest. Instead he plugs in his headphones, slides an eyemask on and tries, once again, to calm himself down, not sure if his new physiology will just allow him to let his guard down in public but tired enough to try.

When he's shaken awake 12 hours later in Italy, Wooyoung's mini album still looping in his ears, he's thankful that apparently, that is one thing that hasn't changed.

+

It gets easier.

Taec doesn't just spend his time in Rome eating ice cream, taking tours and indulging fans. He tests himself, he works on controlling his senses and his Change. He learns to adjust to this, this thing inside him, this wolf. The way it wants things, needs things. The way it's like its a separate part of him, but the same being all at once.

After some experimentation he figures out that he's most susceptible to Changing when his heartrate is elevated—which might cause a problems considering he makes a living performing on stage—but the more he Changes, the better he becomes at controlling it, and he's actually pretty pleased with his progress.

Of course, it's really hard to be away from Wooyoung after he's spent so much of this whole ordeal relying on him, and he misses all the familiar smells of Korea, of home and the people he loves. Disappointingly, he discovers he can't get drunk anymore either, but he figures that's cool, he'll just tell Khun he's given up to show his solidarity or something, and Khun will get all weepy and promise him a million favours.

Which he might actually need to take advantage of on soon enough, considering the fact that when he gets back, he shows the members that he's a werewolf.

+

Junsu faints like an ahjumma. Chansung grabs Jeonggam's carrier and is out of the dorm before Junho can stop gaping. Khun complains that the video uplink is too dark and asks if Taec went to the dentist.

All in all, it's about as successful as Taec had envisaged.

+

Taec waits in his room. He's been through a lot with the members, never does he once really believe that they won't accept him, but it's still tough to wait it out and give them space to come to him in their own time. All he really wants to do is run after them and show them that it's okay, he's the same in all the ways that matter and he won't be able to adjust to the differences without their help, but he forces himself to stay put and breathe and be patient.

Wooyoung slips inside after a few minutes, sitting next to him on the bed, and they wait together.

+

Surely enough, one by one, they come back to him—still shocked, disbelieving and unsettled, but they do come. He Changes in front of each of them again, teeth and claws and facial fur and amber eyes, and while they're shocked and frightened and confused, none of them run away.

"How come you always get the cool stuff," Junho complains, pretending he's not scared even though Taec can hear his rapid heartbeat.

"You're literally a beastly idol," Junsu breathes, hiding behind Wooyoung.

"Biting is supposed to be my thing," Chansung says, eyes wide and looking for the changes that aren't visible now that he's shifted back to his human form.

"You should have told us," Khun scolds him, looking frustrated and disappointed on his computer screen, although Taec knows it's mostly with himself. "We might have been able to help you."

None of them leave him, and Wooyoung—Wooyoung stays with him all night, helping him stay grounded, helping him explain, even helping bear their anger when they inevitably all wonder why he kept this from them. And at the end of the night—it's morning now, surely—Wooyoung is the only one who's left.

Wooyoung. Wooyoung who has been with him through this whole thing, Wooyoung who has always been there with him, Wooyoung who gets him and Wooyoung who grounds him and Wooyoung who always smells so good he just—

Taec doesn't know what he's doing.

He knows one thing though, and it's kind of weird but also kind of right and it's scary and it's exciting and it's not just the… the werewolf inside talking, it's more like pieces finally slipping into place when he realises—

He wants Wooyoung.

+

Nothing changes.

Not between him and Wooyoung, anyway. He doesn't say or do anything about how he feels, and Wooyoung seems fine with how things are, so he leaves it at that. It gets a bit harder when the Awesome Scent is around, but his control is so much better than it was only a few weeks ago, and he's since come to the decision that if using Wooyoung's heartbeat helps him keep calm, well, he's just going to keep doing it. It's weird, and it says a lot about him, but no-one has to know.

It does take him a little while to settle back in with the other members, though. For them to get used to him, to stop being so scared of him. There are ups and downs, as usual, but they're trying, which makes him love them all the more.

They help to cover for him if he slips up (including one almost-catastrophic time involving a television interview directly after a performance, while he's still hyped up and quite possibly growling and howling a little, and Junsu distracts everyone by doing an impression of Audrey), and Khun even helps him with some training. Junho makes him about twenty playlists of calming music, and Chansung, his thoughtful maknae Chansung, offers him a room in his gym to use on nights of the full moon.

"It isn't suspicious that you'd be there," he says, dropping a key onto Taec's palm, "and the walls are strong and soundproofed. You'll be safe there."

In fact, everything is going really well, and he doesn't even accidentally Change once until, on the night before the next full moon, Wooyoung gets hurt.

Taec smells the blood from a block away, and as soon as Wooyoung steps into the dorm his senses go crazy. He grabs Wooyoung's uninjured arm, yanks him away from their manager, away from Chansung's worrying, hovering hands and into the bathroom. He locks the door and rips the arm off Wooyoung's shirt, flinging it, and the tissues he'd been using to stem the blood flow, aside.

It's not bad, long but not deep along the inside of his forearm, but it hurts Wooyoung enough to make him wince and that's enough for Taec. He washes the wound carefully at the sink.

"What happened?" he asks, trying not to sound too growly or else Wooyoung will tease him for it.

"Deja vu," Wooyoung says pointedly, indicating to Taec's hip.

Taec grunts and pats his arm dry, fishing out the same materials Wooyoung used on his bite and applying the antiseptic.

"It was nothing," Wooyoung says finally. "It's just a scrape. Okay?"

Taec looks up at him, mid-bandage application, to find Wooyoung watching him with raised eyebrows, and he knows. He's knows he's overreacting, he's being weird, but he has to go with it, he can't deny himself being upset about anything bad that happens to Wooyoung. Not Wooyoung.

Finally, Taec finishes and leads Wooyoung to his room (if anyone says anything, he'll just claim Wooyoung's bed was too far away or something). He settles him gently on the bed, climbing on carefully after him. Wooyoung huffs indignantly but lets him do it, lets Taec lay down next to him and curl around him.

They're quiet for a few moments, and Taec can't help but revel in Wooyoung's scent (another ridiculous thing he never saw himself doing, just add it to the list).

"You smell really good," he murmurs, pressing his face into Wooyoung's neck.

"It's the full moon," Wooyoung says slowly, a realisation.

"Yes," Taec says, daring to look up at him. Wooyoung's face is carefully blank, like it is every time he's feeling an emotion he knows he shouldn't show. It's an expression Taec hates.

"You're upset," Wooyoung adds. His voice is a monotone, and he shifts back so that he's not touching Taec at all, even though Taec can—he can smell Wooyoung's arousal. It's that same smell from before, from all those other befores, it's the Amazing Scent and now that he can finally recognise it it's so intoxicating that he can barely stop from launching himself at Wooyoung and sniffing and rubbing all over him. Which actually happen to be two of the more innocent urges he's feeling right now.

"Only a little bit." He pushes closer again, mindlessly, slipping a hand under Wooyoung's t-shirt, just wanting Wooyoung's touch, needing to feel a little skin on skin. "Because it's you."

"Hyung," Wooyoung says sharply, and his tone cuts through the haze of Taec's lust, but it's not enough to make him let go. "What does that mean?"

"Yah, Wooyoung-ah," Taec murmurs, reaching up, hand settling on Wooyoung's neck, thumb stroking over his collarbone. "Why do you think I'm doing this?"

Wooyoung's lips purse. He stares silently at Taec for a few moments. Taec looks right back. "It's the full moon," Wooyoung repeats eventually.

"Do you think this isn't me?"

"Last time you... weren't yourself. What am I supposed to think?"

"There's a reason I keep coming back to you, Wooyoung-ah."

Wooyoung's eyes narrow but his body loosens and he sinks into the mattress, slotting him so perfectly underneath Taec, and that's more than enough of an answer for Taec. He surges up and presses his lips to Wooyoung's, straddling his thighs and rolling their hips together. Wooyoung grunts, his eyes going wide, and Taec uses that moment to slice through Wooyoung's shirt from the inside with a single claw, down the middle and then through the armholes before pulling it out from under him and tossing it aside.

"That was much easier with claws," he says, waggling his fingers and bobbing his eyebrows up and down, and Wooyoung's eyeroll becomes one of pleasure, not exasperation, when Taec leans down to lick over his right nipple.

"Taec," Wooyoung gasps, arching up into his mouth, and Taec immediately considers it his duty to conduct an experiment to see if he'll get the same reaction with the other one, and maybe with all of the other sensitive parts of Wooyoung's body.

He does.

+

"You make me better," he tells Wooyoung afterwards, as Wooyoung's warm, soft hand combs absently through his hair. Wooyoung stops for a moment, fingers curling, almost spasming, digging into Taec's scalp. Taec lets out an embarrassing little whine and nuzzles closer and that seems to be the key—Wooyoung's bones unlock and he shakes Taec's hair from his fingers before he slides down the bed. Their bodies no longer touch but Wooyoung isn't leaving him, he's still here, frowning as he finally looks Taec in the eye.

"This is really no joke," he says. Taec's not quite sure what he's referring to. It feels like his entire life is a joke lately, like one big supernatural comedy of errors, like he's somehow the butt of a cruel, terrible joke played by God Himself.

But that's okay, he thinks as Wooyoung takes another moment before he shifts closer again, aligning their bodies perfectly, because he's not alone. He has the members, who will help him and cover for him and who will love him anyway. He has Wooyoung, the only person who can calm him, his anchor. And he knows that they can tame the beast together.

So to speak.

+

Notes 2: I've wanted to write something supernatural-esque for a while now, and since I may have accidentally fallen in like with Teen Wolf (just so you know, I don't regret it all. Except how I do, every day)... I actually started this with the idea that it was going to be an action/adventure/supernatural romp, but… that didn't happen. Maybe next time?

+

+ On The Line [1/2] [2PM]

2012-08-13T13:52:10Z

Title: On The Line
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Junho/Nichkhun (Taecyeon/Wooyoung)
Word Count: ~12,830 words
Notes: My wips are in a state of disarray and I haven’t written anything of substance in a very long time so biases ever so kindly offered me a prompt, and I went with it. And then I had to rewrite it but that's a whole 'nother story. Massive thanks to augmenti for reading it over, and to Mary for cheering me on. (I meant to post this before ficmix started but uh... Sorry, wonderful remixer, hope this doesn't mess with anything!)
Summary: Tennis begins with love.

+

Junho hates these events.

It's not proper to say so out loud, since they usually come with a title like 'Raising Cash for Kids' or 'Smile for Africa!' (originality must have been in low supply that day), but those titles mean nothing. Junho would have no problem if these charity balls were all about philanthropy and altruism, but the sad fact of the matter is, when celebrities are involved, it's really just about celebrities (who signs the biggest cheque, who poses for the most cameras, and who manages to seem the most poised even though they've been stuck wearing their most uncomfortable finery for hours). The underprivileged are just a great excuse to be seen in a good light.

Still, Junho figures, at least something's happening. Any small bit helps, whether it's in terms of raising money or awareness. He just hates all the showiness—hates that he has to stand in the corner and smile for another two hours before he can leave and not be reported in the papers as ungracious.

He reaches up and loosens his tie a little, but it doesn't really help. He'd feel suffocated in this place even if he was naked.

A woman he thinks he should recognise, dressed in what is probably the most absurd dress of the evening (not a accolade he's passed on lightly, she has a lot of competition), looks his way and waves coyly, and he nods back, trying not to look too interested. She's already talking to someone but she starts to edge closer to Junho and that's when he breaks. He slides away from the wall and darts through the crowd, trying to force his way through egos so enlarged by years of reinforcement it feels impossible, but then he spots the exit (memorised exactly in preparation for moments like this) and he slips out into the cool night air, away from those sucking desperately cigarettes, moving further back into the fancy garden. In daylight it's probably pretty, intricate brickwork contrasting with colourful flowers, but right now it's simply vacant and quiet and peaceful. Junho breathes deeply, loosening his shoulders like he would before a playing a point, blocking out his surroundings and focusing on breathing.

He's so caught up in trying to centre himself that he doesn't even notice the other guy until he's right in front of him, and then he's so startled that he stumbles back and would end up in the Olympic-sized fish pond, if not for the guy's quick reflexes and strong grip around his biceps. He freezes in place, half leaned back, and the guy does too, his fingers tightening, heat beginning to seep through Junho's expensive suit jacket.

"Uh," the guy says, "are you okay?"

The soft American-sounding English makes Junho realise he's still hanging precariously over the pond, and he reaches up to grab the guys elbows for balance as they slowly straighten up together. The force pulls Junho close to the guy's body and when he looks up they're way too close for two strangers.

"Thanks," Junho murmurs, his own English still heavily accented, even after so many years. He steps backwards, gently manoeuvring himself out of the guy's personal space.

"Just call me your knight in shining Armani," the guy says, smiling and straightening out the arms of his jacket. "Or whatever this suit is."

"Is that your official title?" Junho asks. He squints, wishing he could see more of the guy's face, but he's turned his back to the moon and all Junho can see is his profile, and sometimes the hint of a bushy eyebrow when he turns his head right. He sounds young though, and for once Junho finds himself wanting to know more about one of the guests at a celebrity event.

"Only during working hours. I'm Khun." He reaches out a hand and Junho responds automatically, trying to remember if he's ever heard the name.

"Junho."

Khun's grip is firm and warm, just like it had been on his biceps, and when Khun pulls away it's not to pluck and preen so Junho figures Khun doesn't recognise him either. (For all the fame he dreamed of when he was a kid, it's such a relief when that happens now.)

"Well I should go back," Khun says, gesturing to the main building a little awkwardly, and Junho nods.

"Okay. Thanks for... saving me," he finishes lamely, but Khun's mouth opens wide in a grin.

"Just try to avoid taking another dip." He turns away before spinning back again and this time his face is at just the right angle to be fully illuminated by the moon. His eyebrows are rather exemplary but he's otherwise very attractive, in a flower-boy kind of way.

Junho tries very hard not to like him just a little bit more.

"Unless you're a swimmer," Khun adds, and Junho has to take a few moments to remember what they're talking about.

"Wrong sport," he says, and at that Khun nods, waves, and heads back inside.

Junho watches him go, sidestepping so he can see Khun right up until he disappears through the doorway, and ends up with one leg knee-deep in the pond anyway.

+

Two weeks later Junho is knocked out in the first round of a major tournament after a frustrating tiebreaker played in forty degrees celsius, and it's when he's having his post-match ice bath that he sees it.

The connecting bathroom in his hotel has a really good view of the TV in the bedroom and he likes to leave it on sometimes because he finds the quiet hum of voices relaxing, no matter what language they're speaking. The last time he looked at the screen there was news on but now it seems to be halfway through a cooking programme (which Junho usually avoids, since they just remind him of all the food he wants but can't have) so he nearly blocks it out again but then there's a sudden side-on angle of the chef's face and—

Those eyebrows. Junho has seen them before.

The shot transitions to a front on view and the chef smiles for a brief moment, twisting something tiny in Junho's chest, before they head to an ad break and the logo of the show appears in the middle of the screen.

'Cooking with Khun'.

+

Taec comes in handy for a multitude of reasons. Taec is Junho's physiotherapist and Taec travels the circuit with him while he doesn't have a full-time coach, but Taec also has a life that isn't all tennis all the time, and he takes it upon himself to fill Junho in on any applicable pop culture. So when Junho wants to know about Khun, he doesn't even bother with the internet and instead goes straight to Taec.

"Khun's pretty much a household name, when people remember how to pronounce it," he says, rubbing at Junho's shoulder. "My sister has all his cookbooks. You said there was a twinge on your overheads, right?"

Junho nods, wincing as Taec digs his fingers right into his skin.

"The ladies love him," he continues. "He's hot and he can cook, he's like a dream come true."

"Shallow," Junho comments, but really he's just wondering if he's the last person in the world to know about this guy.

"Oh, and he hosted that fundraiser for Africa last year."

Junho sighs.

"Hurt there?" Taec asks, sounding concerned.

"No, it's not that. I'm fine."

"You're not. Be more careful with this shoulder, you've already had surgery. It could become permanent."

"I know, stop nagging." Junho stands up and carefully stretches out his arms, testing his shoulder—it feels as if God Himself has had his hands on it.

Taec grins knowingly. "Spirit fingers." He wiggles them and Junho feels it's only right that he should roll his eyes as he puts his wifebeater back on. "Hey," Taec says suddenly, "You should come out tonight with me and Wooyoungie. The restaurant's supposed to be really amazing, we only got a reservation once Wooyoung proved that it was really him on the cover of Men's Health."

"Why wasn't I already invited?" Junho asks mildly, not that he really cares (much). He's just stalling for time, trying to calculate if the energy spent getting ready, going out and then constantly looking over his shoulder will be worth it. "Was it a date?"

Taec laughs but suddenly becomes very interested in packing his bag. "No, it's because you're a bitch when you lose and Wooyoung has given up on you in disgust." He looks up again and frames his chin with his palms, blinking rapidly in a way he obviously thinks is cute. "Come on, Junho-yah. Pwease?"

Junho gapes at him in disgust.

Taec grins victoriously.

+

A few hours later, Junho has to admit that Taec was right—not that he'd ever tell him that. They have a table in the VIP section of the restaurant so no crazy fans or press are stalking them (unless you count the two girls who waited for Wooyoung while he was in the toilet, but they were harmless enough) and the food is absolutely, wonderfully delicious. Junho can't remember the last time he ate restaurant food this good and by the time dessert comes around, even if he allowed himself to consume sugar he wouldn't be able to fit it in.

Wooyoung declines as well but Taec decides to have something ice-creamy, probably just to taunt Wooyoung. When the waiter (Seulong, he'd insisted they address him, before assuring them that he'd cater to their every need) brings it to them, Taec makes a show of taking the first bite and Wooyoung pretends not to care.

"Is the owner in?" Taec asks through a full mouth, just as Seulong is motioning to leave.

Seulong tilts his head, eying Junho for a moment (which is a little creepy, but nothing he's not used to) before responding. "I'll let him know you wish to see him."

A few minutes later he's returning with someone in a bright red shirt in tow, but Seulong is freakishly tall so Junho can't see the man's face. And then Seulong shifts out of the way and Junho immediately thinks—of course. The realisation only grows stronger when Taec elbows him pointedly in the ribs.

"Hello," Khun says, bowing. "I'm Nichkhun Horvejkul. I hope you're enjoying your meal." He looks tired, his eyes don't have the sparkle they do on TV, but he's smiling anyway, leaning in to shake with Wooyoung, Taec and then— "Junho?" he says, looking confused (which admittedly is not the ideal reaction), but then his polite smile morphs into a wide grin that makes the tips of Junho's ears start to burn. "It's nice to see you," he says warmly.

Junho nods and forces himself not to pat down his hair over his ears. "You too. I didn't know this was your restaurant."

Khun's smile dims a little, but Junho has no time to read into it because Wooyoung clears his throat loudly. Junho and Khun look over simultaneously—Wooyoung has his best 'I'll humour you with this but it better be good' face on and Taec is just looking plain lecherous.

"So," Taec says, eying them meaningfully, "you two… know each other?"

"Not really," Junho says, at the same time Khun blurts, "A little."

Junho wonders when any encounter of his will ever not be awkward.

"We met at a fundraiser the other night," Khun hastily explains, but it's entirely the wrong thing to say because Wooyoung's unimpressed expression immediately morphs into a sadistic smirk.

"I see," Wooyoung says, looking Khun up and down. "So this is him, huh?"

"Sorry?" Khun frowns.

"Doesn't matter," Wooyoung says. He pushes Junho aside and forces Khun into his empty seat. "As long as you stay and tell us all about yourself."

Khun seems unperturbed. Junho wonders how long that will last.

+

It takes half an hour of Khun's life story (mixed-race parents, strict childhood, teenage years away from home where he learned to cook for himself, working his way up in the hospitality industry, developing his own brand) and Wooyoung's feigned interest and thinly-veiled insults until Taec finally takes pity on Junho and insists it's time for Wooyoung's deep-tissue massage. He drags him out with a not-so-subtle thumbs up to Junho, leaving Khun and Junho alone. Almost completely alone, Junho realises—a peek out of the VIP partition reveals that all of the other patrons have left too. Only Seulong and a few other wait staff are left in the restaurant, tidying up for the next day.

"We close early on Monday nights," Khun says, and Junho turns back to see him smiling softly in the candlelight. "So." He leans in, resting his chin on his palm. "Wooyoung was very protective of you."

Junho snorts. "Wooyoung can't decide whether he hates me or likes me. Two players the same age from the same country on the same tour, we're more like rivals than friends. If he wasn't more popular than me I'm pretty sure he'd never speak to me again."

"So there's nothing…" Khun looks down, fiddling with the cutlery. "Nothing romantic there?"

"Not with me and him," Junho says quickly. People have asked before. Even the overseas media have made illusions to it. "I have my suspicions about Taec and Woo. I never take that many clothes off for my treatments."

Khun laughs and Junho does too, because Khun's laugh is kind of like that. "You know, I've never seen a tennis game before."

"You're missing out on a lot," Junho tells him seriously. "Lots of sweating and grunting."

Khun's eyebrows raise. "How did I not know this? Okay, I'm definitely in."

Even though he probably should, Junho doesn't hesitate. They've both been flirting, and Khun's smiling and his eyes are back to sparkling, so he uses that as his rationale as he says, "Wooyoung and I are having a practice match tomorrow."

"Is that an invitation?"

"It's whatever you want it to be. I lost in the first round but we promised we'd help each other out so…" He looks up and Khun's face is closer than he remembers, but it's not like that's a bad thing. (Unless Junho has food in his teeth, or that blemish on his chin is acting up again, but he tries not to think like that.)

"Okay," Khun says softly. "In that case, I'll see you again tomorrow, Lee Junho."

+

He would never tell anyone, can barely even admit it to himself because of how traitorous it feels, but Junho's almost glad he's been knocked out of the tournament. Ever since he met Khun his focus has been off, and even when he's watching footage of his losing match to analyse his gameplay, something his first coach used to berate him for obsessing about, instead of criticizing that foot fault or where he went wrong with that serve placement, images of Khun keep invading his mind.

It's only worse after Khun calls him confirming some details and saying how much he's looking forward to the match, so bad that even Wooyoung picks up on it—although Junho trying to put the wrong shoe on the wrong foot in the locker room probably doesn't help.

"What's wrong with you?" Wooyoung asks bluntly. "You're even clumsier than usual."

"Thanks." Junho finally finishes tying his laces (three knots, undone and redone three times, one of his rituals since he started playing tennis) and jumps up, grabbing his racket bag. Maybe he can try to distract Wooyoung. "So, the number three seed next, huh? Got a plan of action?"

"Yeah, to win." He leads the way out and they're joined by way too many security guards, separating and flanking them as they make their way to the practice courts and making further conversation impossible.

Thankfully.

Junho checks his sponsor-provided watch—Khun should get here soon. He hopes he arrives after he and Wooyoung have warmed up, because Junho is notorious for screwing up right until the game starts (something about the headspace of the game, being in the zone really curbs his clumsiness) and Khun has already been witness to more than enough of his stupidity.

Fans react as they make their way to through the stadium, smiling or waving or giggling, and quite a few people follow them. There's small crowd gathered by the time they reach their designated court, and when Wooyoung turns and waves a bunch of girls start screaming. Junho rolls his eyes as he follows Wooyoung onto the court and they put down their things at the players' seats.

"Why does everyone like you so much," he complains.

"My charm," Wooyoung says, forming a heart with his arms. The crowd goes even wilder.

+

Khun arrives when Junho and Wooyoung have just started playing for real—or as real as possible when Wooyoung has an important game the next day. Junho only sees him because he's been keeping an eye out between points, and he's pleased to note that Khun looks great but inconspicuous, his Ray Bans and red hat (which Junho thinks might say 'Jesus' on it) hiding his face and making him seem like any old rabid tennis fan.

Considering his recent mental state Junho had wondered if he'd be able to concentrate for the game, but as it turns out having a supporter in the stands only works to his advantage. It's been a long time since he really played for someone, and since Wooyoung's holding back anyway he beats him according to their modified scoring system easily and efficiently. They meet again at their seats afterwards and Wooyoung pouts at him.

"Yah," he says, panting between gulps from his water bottle, "you can leave now, you're making me look bad."

"I would apologise but…" Junho looks Khun's way and Khun grins and gives a little wave. Wooyoung follows his gaze.

"Oh. He's here."

Junho shoves him. "Shut up."

"Taec looked into him. You know he used to play badminton? Badminton, Junho. That's like comparing a motorbike," he shakes his racket, "to a unicycle."

"Okay, I'm going. Have fun playing with yourself."

"I always do," Wooyoung says.

Junho ignores him and looks back in Khun's direction but he's not there. He frowns—he can't have left already, could he? He grabs his stuff and exits the court, and he only just has the time to wave off security before a hand wraps around his wrist and yanks him away, through the crowd, behind another court, around beside a building and into a tiny alcove. Junho is pushed into the wall but he's not worried (he's anything but worried) because he knows exactly who it is just from the warm, possessive grip.

Khun looks down at him with intense eyes, sunglasses hooked into his shirt pocket and hat turned sideways, and then all of a sudden they're kissing, Khun's hand cradling his face, Khun's mouth warm, Khun's tongue soft and Junho's stomach fluttering.

He's really sweaty but Khun doesn't seem to care, his hands wandering down Junho's body, under his t-shirt to graze over his stomach and then slipping down to his ass.

"This is… um..." Junho fumbles for words between kisses, because this is moving really fast and he might just need a moment to process things, "sudden."

"If I'd kissed you on the night of the fundraiser like I wanted to, that would've been sudden," Khun murmurs and Junho feels another little thrill to know the attraction was mutual. "This has been too long coming. Also that game was really hot," Khun admits, pulling away just enough to look into Junho's eyes.

"You're an idiot," Junho tells him, although there's no bite to it at all. "How did tennis turn you on?"

"I was prepared for the grunting." He nuzzles Junho's neck and scrapes his teeth over his jaw. "But when you kept bending over to hit Wooyoung's ball—"

"Receive his serve," Junho corrects automatically, only vaguely registering how much dirtier that sounds.

"—it was like..." He presses Junho further into the wall with his hips. "So hard to watch."

"Okay, it's not that I don't like what you're doing," Junho says, pushing Khun back, "but I really need to warm down and shower. And then I need food."

Khun unwillingly lets him go. "I can be involved in at least one of those things, right?"

+

No-one expects Wooyoung to beat the player ranked third in the world (not even, Junho suspects, Wooyoung himself), which is why it's such a shock when he does.

The interviewer in the delayed broadcast of his post-game interview mentions Junho and Wooyoung makes some witty remark, and Junho's just glad he's watching from the safety of his hotel room. Wooyoung's always been much better at the publicity stuff than him. Junho's English is slightly better than Wooyoung's and more than one poll has confirmed that he looks better in his shorts but in the end Wooyoung is the one to get the laughs, so Wooyoung is the one to get the fans.

Junho's only jealous sometimes. Okay maybe more than sometimes. But at least he doesn't have to do embarrassing things in public, like the victory dance Wooyoung is being asked to do right now.

The Real Wooyoung barges into his room just in time to catch himself shaking his ass at the crowd, and he groans and throws himself face-first onto Junho's bed.

"Turn it off," he pleads.

Junho keeps it on a few seconds longer, just because he can, before hitting standby on the remote.

"Congratulations," he tells Wooyoung.

Wooyoung grunts.

"Through to the fourth round, you're doing our great nation so proud."

Another grunt.

"Come on, where's your ssanti spirit now?"

Wooyoung props his head up on one hand and glares. "Stop pretending to encourage me. We both know you want me to lose."

"That wasn't encouragement," Junho says, ignoring the second part because he hates that Wooyoung always seems to be able to understand the ugliest parts of him, parts he wishes no-one, let alone his best rival-slash-friend, knew about. He jumps up and emulates a kamehameha, shouting, "This is encouragement!"

Wooyoung blinks. "If only you'd do things like that on camera... Why are you so happy anyway?"

Junho shrugs, grabbing his phone and trying to look busy. It's not that he's happier, per se, it's just… there's more to look forward to now. But he would rather eat a tennis ball than try to explain that to Wooyoung.

Not that it seems he has to, because Wooyoung suddenly says, "Ouh!" and Junho looks up in time to see his eyes take on an evil glint. "It's him, isn't it? The celebrity chef."

Junho tries very hard not to react.

"I thought you hated all that celebrity shit," Wooyoung continues. He collapses onto his back and stares at the ceiling. "Why are you suddenly buying into it?"

"I'm not!" Junho says. (Half true. He hasn't read a gossip magazine in years but only yesterday there was one with a feature on Khun and he somehow found himself buying every copy in the store.) "Khun's not like that." (All true. Junho's met numerous celebrities over the past few years, and there have only been a few who he's considered keeping in contact with, let alone entering into a relationship with. Assuming that's what this thing with Khun even is—they've only been out a few times and Junho's leaving again soon, so it's probably best not to use labels at all.) Junho sighs and lowers himself down next to Wooyoung. Their arms are touching and usually Wooyoung would pull away but he doesn't, so Junho doesn't either.

They stay in comfortable silence for a while, Junho comforted by Wooyoung's even breathing, before Wooyoung clears his throat.

"Just…" he says, sounding awkward, "just… be careful."

Junho grins. "You really do care."

"I'm usually in the hotel room next to yours, that's all. If you cry yourself to sleep every night it'll keep me awake."

"Right, got it." Another pause, before he adds, "He's teaching me to play badminton tonight, wanna come?"

Wooyoung rolls away and practically throws himself off the bed. "I take it back. I hope you die a long, painful death."

Junho laughs.

+

On Junho's last night in the country, he visits Khun at his apartment (well one of them, anyway). They're going to watch Wooyoung's fourth-round match together but beforehand Khun is going to cook, and really, who is Junho to turn him down.

Junho's as disguised as he can possibly be in the summer (bowler hat, aviators, popped collar) but he still feels very much on display as he hurries from the taxi to the door, pressing the buzzer three times and muttering "It's me" into the intercom. Khun finally lets him in and he uses the elevator ride to compose himself, settling his breathing with an exercise that was drummed into him ever since his passion changed from bowling to baseball to soccer to tennis as a child.

Truthfully, he feels a little ashamed for allowing himself to care so much about getting caught. Khun doesn't, and he'd told Junho so the day of the tennis match, but Khun has never really kept his sexuality a secret. He's never paraded it in front of cameras, but it's a generally-known fact that he's gay and it hasn't seemed to impact his career at all (not in the ways that matter, anyway).

Junho envies him. Only a few select people know his true sexuality. If he didn't think it would end in disaster he'd want all of the people he loves to know, he can stop living such a huge part of his life in secret, but that will never be an option for him. Both his immediate and extended family are pretty devoted Christians, and they think he is too. If they ever found out about his lifestyle they would be devastated.

Not only that but Koreans as a whole aren't particularly known for their acceptance of homosexuals, and Junho's quite certain he has no interest in finding out how the entire populace of his home country would react to finding out that one of their sporting heroes is gay.

In interviews he's often asked about a girlfriend but he usually just says that he's too busy (half true) or that he's not interested (all true, although not for the reasons the media might infer). Other than the occasional Wooyoung-related article, in the eyes of the public and his church-going family he's one of tennis's most eligible bachelors, and he'd much rather keep it that way.

He's calm by the time he reaches Khun's door, and when Khun opens it and pulls him inside for a kiss he responds eagerly, sliding a hand around Khun's shoulders and pressing their bodies together.

Khun grins against his mouth. "Hey," he says softly, stroking Junho's hair.

"Have you been chewing that disgusting strawberry gum again?" Junho replies, pulling a face, and Khun pouts just he knew he would, drawing away and slapping Junho on the ass.

"You suck," Khun says.

"Maybe later," Junho says, gliding past Khun and further into the modestly-furnished apartment, not giving him time to respond. "I need to use your bathroom."

He's lucky that he picks the right direction to walk in—and that he waits until he's out of Khun's line of sight before he trips on a rug and runs into a wall.

+

When he gets back is in the kitchen (oversized and gleaming and pristine, as you'd expect of a celebrity chef) Khun is fiddling with his Blackberry. Junho stands on his toes and peeks over Khun's shoulder and sees it's Twitter.

"What's the latest update?" he asks, only half-interested.

"Hmm," Khun hums, leaning back against Junho, "'Korean tennis-playing boyfriend promised me a blowjob tonight', exclamation mark, smiley face, 'sharing is caring', tilde."

Junho freezes.

Khun laughs. "Here, look." He holds his phone up over his shoulder, and sure enough it says, Teaching a friend how to cook tonight! = ] Sharing is caring~

Junho shoves at him and Khun turns around, frowning a little.

"Did you really think I'd…" He shakes his head. "Would it be so bad if…"

Junho's heart seizes up again, and even though Khun forces a smile Junho knows deep down that it's something they'll have to discuss in the future—if they have one.

And then he processes the entirety of Khun's tweet and realises—

"Wait, I have to cook?"

+

No matter how much Junho pleads, no matter how many kitchen-related horror stories he relates or ass-related promises he makes (although Khun almost caves by that point, Junho can tell), Khun is determined that they're going to cook together.

Somehow he even convinces Junho to go out shopping for ingredients with him (how Khun does all these things, Junho doesn't know, but something about Khun relaxes him, makes him let his guard down. It might have something to do with big pleading eyes and warm wet mouth but Junho refuses to lock anything in just yet). By the time they reach the supermarket car park though, Junho's doubts have returned at full force.

"This is crazy," Junho mutters, peering carefully out of the tinted window. There aren't many people around, thank God. "Anyone could see us."

"So?" Khun says. "We're friends. I'm hardly going to do this," he grabs Junho's neck and jerks him towards him, kissing him roughly, briefly, and then pulling back, "in there." He squeezes Junho's cheeks and gets out of the car. Junho waits a few moments before following him into the store, keeping his head down.

They make their way quickly through the aisles and Junho's so on edge that he doesn't even notice what Khun's buying until they get to the meat section.

"Which meat would be best for," Khun checks his handwritten list, "bul-go-gi?"

Junho blinks. "What? Bulgogi?"

"I thought maybe we could make something from your home," he admits, scratching his head sheepishly. "You must be missing it, right?"

In that one moment Junho feels all of his inhibitions fall away, and it takes all of his willpower to tamp down on his sudden urge to launch himself on Khun and kiss him just they did in the car, right in front of everyone.

Which is scary, because he never, ever thought he'd feel that way about Khun—never thought that within only three weeks of first meeting someone that he could be feeling and thinking the way he is.

Forget scary—it's terrifying, is what it is.

Khun puts his hand on Junho's shoulder, leaning in concernedly, and Junho shakes himself a little, knocking Khun's hand away.

"Try that," he blurts, pointing at some meat that looks vaguely adequate. Khun bends to look at it and that's when Junho registers the price tag. His eyes widen—he's won his fair share of small tournaments and he has a few endorsements back in Korea, but his earnings have hardly been enough to go wild on. "Yah wait, that's too expensive!"

"It's fine," Khun says. He pulls out a shiny black credit card and waves it in Junho's face. "Company card."

"Well in that case," Junho says, and takes charge of the rest of the shopping trip, his unsettling emotions left conveniently in aisle one.

+

Khun is the most patient teacher Junho's ever had.

His first coach liked to shout a lot and his second tended to forget that Junho had human limitations just like everybody else, not to mention his tutors, who were always unimpressed by his eagerness to get back on the court. Khun, however, is calm and gentle, even if his instruction is a little more… hands on than Junho suspects it needs to be. Maybe it helps, too, that they really are kind of working together—Khun's never made Korean food before and Junho's at least seen it done, which puts them on much more equal footing. Or so Junho likes to think.

The meat is prepared and set to marinate with little incident (Junho insists that he probably still would have been able to hold a racket without his little finger but Khun is not amused) and they're preparing the side dishes (bean sprouts and honeyed potatoes—Khun bought pre-packaged kimchi but carefully put it back away when Junho made his disgust clear) when Junho suddenly feels Khun's arms around his waist, palms smoothing up and over his stomach, Khun's chest pressing against his back.

"You're very grabby," Junho comments, wringing the last of the water out of the sprouts.

"You're very grabbable," Khun breathes into his ear, biting gently at his lobe.

Junho feigns his composure, grappling for something, anything to say. "I'm trying to cook."

"That's what's so hot."

Junho snorts and turns to him, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "Even my sprout-squeezing turns you on?"

Khun laughs. "It's your focus," he explains. His fingers pluck at the hem of Junho's red apron and Junho bats them away. "When you concentrate your lips puff out and you open your mouth really wide. Your mouth, Junho." He leans in again and Junho lets him, flattered and much more willing to cooperate, and just as their lips touch—the rice cooker clicks off.

Junho sighs, gently prodding Khun backwards. "I need to get that."

"No," Khun says stubbornly.

"I have to turn it off, I hate it if it stays on the keep warm setting. Please move?" He tries to look cute, which is a gamble because he doesn't do it very often, but it must work because Khun sighs and steps aside.

"You're a tease," he accuses.

Junho says nothing, but makes sure to brush against him with most of his body when he moves past.

+

The bulgogi tastes like nothing he's ever eaten before but Junho decides it's passable, and teaching Khun how to parcel meat in lettuce is worth it for the wide-eyed look of pleasure on his face.

Once they finish they leave their dishes out and make preparations for Wooyoung's game to start. Khun makes some popcorn in the microwave while Junho rearranges the couch to his liking, taking up most of the room and not caring.

"Your parents live in Thailand, right?" he calls, adjusting the pillow under his butt. "You should cook Thai for me next time."

Khun practically leaps into the room, a large grin on his face, still managing to keep a massive bowl steady. Junho envies his agility. "Next time? Already thinking about our future?"

"Thinking about food," he corrects lamely, rolling his eyes, even as it sinks in that—yeah, he had been, and he hadn't even known it. It had just felt… natural.

"Food is the way to a man's heart, or so they say." Khun lifts Junho's feet and slides under them before letting them drop back onto his thighs. "I like to think that a sincere soul works just as well."

"Ugh, you're so corny," Junho grumbles.

Khun says nothing, and they sit in comfortable silence for a few moments until Khun says, "Wait..." He points at the television. "Did Wooyoung just grab his—" he hesitates, before adding, almost primly, "underwear?"

Junho looks and sure enough Wooyoung is at his end of the court, practicing his serving. He snickers as Wooyoung does it again. "It's his pre-point ritual. Some people bounce the ball a lot, some people wear certain clothing, Wooyoung likes to adjust his… shorts. How have you only noticed it now?"

"I was too busy watching you last time."

Junho ignores him and unmutes the TV as Wooyoung's statistics flash onscreen, listening instead to the commentators' ramblings about Wooyoung's history and Wooyoung's promise and Wooyoung's chance of winning.

"He's not getting enough height on his serve," Junho murmurs, also noticing the way Wooyoung's fingers are clenched too tightly around his racket. "He's way too nervous."

"Not that you'd know it," Khun says.

Which may be true for the average audience, since Wooyoung has his well-practiced poker face on, but Junho doesn't even notice that anymore. He knows Wooyoung too well to take anything he does at face value.

"Do you think he can win?" Khun asks, once the footage shifts to Wooyoung's opponent.

"I don't know," Junho admits. "His groin was tight earlier but if he works through it then—" He stops as Khun makes a strange noise and finally looks over to find Khun staring at him, the flickering light of the TV casting shadows over his face where his eyebrows are drawn together. "What?"

Khun shakes his head, casually picking through the popcorn. "Are you that intimate with all of Wooyoung's injuries?" he asks, and Junho can tell he's trying very hard to seem indifferent.

"You really are an idiot," Junho says. Khun looks at him. He looks back. He grabs Khun's neck and Khun goes with the motion as he pulls him forwards, aiming for a kiss.

"Wait," Khun protests half-heartedly, "what about the game?"

"I'll watch the replay," Junho says. Their lips touch before Khun can respond, and the popcorn tips up and spills all over the floor.

+

Wooyoung wins, but really, Junho thinks, so does he.

+

>

+ On The Line [2/2] [2PM]

2012-08-13T13:49:54Z

<

+

Waking up the next morning is a very pleasant experience.

As Junho works his eyes open he begins to register how they're tangled together, Khun's legs between his and Khun's arm flung across his bare chest, Khun's face so close to his that he could count the hairs of his eyebrows.

Not that he would want to.

Still, it's nice. It's been a long time since Junho has woken up next to someone (other than Taec or Wooyoung, of course, but the groaning and complaining about hangovers has never been very romantic), and he'd forgotten just how different it is. How much warmer and cozier. How much harder to leave the bed.

He watches Khun for a few minutes, and it (embarrassingly) makes his stomach clench when Khun's eyes flutter open and he blinks before smiling at Junho.

"Good morning," Khun says sleepily, stretching his legs out. He yawns and moves his arm to rub at his eye before slinging it back over Junho's body, his fingers brushing gently over Junho's ribcage.

Junho shivers and wrinkles his nose. "That tickles."

"You think that's gonna make me stop?" Khun moves even closer, his fingertips tracing the curve of each rib, and Junho tries to bat his hands away but they both know Junho isn't going to win this one.

"Your breath is terrible," Junho complains, trying a different tactic, but that doesn't work either and Khun suddenly surges up and straddles Junho's chest, his palms pressing down between Junho's lungs.

"Quick, gotta save you from my breath!" he cries, pumping his hands gently, a terrible imitation of CPR.

Junho sputters out a laugh. "That's not how you do it! Yah!"

Khun grins widely and leans down and Junho stops laughing when he feels Khun's tongue drag over his lips.

They kiss for a long time, softly, quietly, slowing gradually to a stop, ending up on their backs and staring at the ceiling, Junho using Khun's bicep as a pillow. Junho wonders what Khun's thinking but he doesn't ask.

Maybe he's too scared of the answer.

"What's time's your flight?" Khun asks eventually, rolling over to face Junho and trailing his free hand up to rest on Junho's jaw.

"Four," Junho says. He doesn't miss the sly grin forming on Khun's face, but he pretends to. "You gonna miss me?"

Khun's expression immediately softens, and Junho doesn't know what do with the way Khun's grip on his face has suddenly turned into a caress. The look in Khun's big eyes doesn't help either, and Junho can only hold his gaze for a few moments before he takes it upon himself to change the atmosphere, rolling them over with him on top this time.

+

After Junho lands, he allows himself twenty-four hours to recover from his mild jetlag, and then plays three exhibition matches in the next three days. He wins them all. By a lot.

Because it's strange, but while he misses Khun (which is another thing altogether to fret over), he has exactly the same feeling he did when he beat Wooyoung and Khun was watching—like playing for someone makes him stronger. Like the knowledge that someone cares personally about his victories spurs him on and makes him try harder.

It's stupid, intellectually Junho knows that, but it feels… good. It feels really really good.

Wooyoung finally loses in his tournament but the prize money is probably more than either of them have ever won combined, and as well as all of the PR overseas Wooyoung will probably get a whole bunch of CF offers back home. Which Junho's only a little bitter about.

Still, Wooyoung is his friend and Wooyoung's worked really hard and Junho has to admit he really deserved his victories—even his losing match had been a battle, going to five sets and lasting over five hours.

Junho has just got off the phone with him (apparently he's flying out in a couple of days, once he's done all his duties for the press, and has informed Junho he expects a red carpet in his room) when he gets another phone call, this time from Khun.

He tries not to sound as pleased as he feels when he answers, appropriately teasing and only slightly mocking all through their pleasantries.

"So," Khun says, finally getting to the point, "I'll see you in an hour?"

Junho pauses. "You do understand we're on opposite sides of the world."

"Not since nine o'clock this morning," Khun says facetiously, like he knows how happy that will make Junho, and how annoyed Junho will get that he knows how happy that makes him, and how frustrated he'll subsequently feel at not being able to decide whether happiness or annoyance wins out.

"I hate you," Junho tells him.

"Is it okay if we make a quick visit to a good friend first?" Khun continues cheerfully. "He'll be at work but we haven't seen each other in ages and I want him to meet you."

How can Junho say no to that. "I really really hate you."

+

Khun's 'friend', as it turns out, just happens to be Chansung Hwang.

As in, Korean drama star Hwang Chansung turned Hollywood action hero Chansung Hwang.

And Chansung Hwang's 'work' just happens to be on a multi-million dollar film set.

Junho knows now why Khun was so vague on the phone.

It takes them a long time to get through security, a lot of ID checks and conversations over walkie-talkies, but once they're finally allowed on set Junho is amazed by what he sees.

He's watched behind-the-scenes documentaries before, who hasn't, but he never really expected there to be so many people. Everyone seems so focused, each individual fixated on completing their tiny role so that the huge production ball will keep rolling as smoothly as possible.

Junho stays as close to Khun as he can. Right now would be a horrible time for his uncoordination to kick in.

Eventually a busy assistant ushers them onto a huge set of a suburban American street, complete with road and house fronts and gardens and even letter boxes. Junho looks around with awe, because instead of sky there is green screen and a huge lighting grid and most of the 'houses' seem to consist only of the front wall.

The assistant tells them to stay put and Junho watches her navigate through the throng of busy people, over to a bunch of director's chairs in the corner. She leans down to whisper in a dark-haired man's ear, and Chansung immediately swivels around.

Khun waves and as soon as Chansung sees him, his eyes light up and he rushes over, throwing his arms around Khun in a hug that is definitely more than platonic. His hands rub over Khun's back and Khun's fingers run across Chansung's shoulders and up his neck, brushing through his hair, and they murmur greetings into each other's ears.

They embrace for a long time. Junho wonders if Khun even remembers he's there.

He clears his throat.

Khun slowly pulls away, grinning the widest Junho's ever seen him, and grabs Junho's sleeve, yanking him forward. "Say hello to Junho."

"So this is Junho," Chansung says, and smiles at him, his eyes curving up too. It's so genuine that Junho feels his petty jealousy dissolve in an instant. "Hello, how are you?" he says in Korean, and bows.

Junho hastily does the same, although his bow is a bit jerky—he hasn't had to do that in months.

"It's quite a coincidence that Khunnie found himself a Korean boyf…" He stops, and smiles again, gesturing between Junho and Khun. "Well, you know."

"I suppose so," Junho says. He's trying not to be awkward but speaking with an unfamiliar Korean person after so long is messing with his head. Should they use Korean or English? How polite is he supposed to be? He doesn't even know how old Chansung is. Will he want Junho to call him hyung?

Chansung must sense his discomfort because he smiles again and says, "Let's just use English until you teach Khunnie some more Korean, okay?"

Junho nods gratefully and Chansung turns back to Khun.

"It's really good to see you! I'm sorry I can't spend more time with you, after you came all this way…" He looks worried for a moment, biting his lip, and it's so unlike the confident, if slightly goofy Chansung that Junho is used to seeing on TV that he finds himself liking him even more. Damn him.

"It's fine Chansung," Khun assures him, wrapping his arm back around Chansung's shoulders, "I'll take whatever I can get of you." He raises his eyebrows meaningfully.

Chansung shares an amused look with Junho and then pushes Khun off. "Okay but I have present for you guys to make up for it okay? Wait one second." He jogs over to a table on the other side of the set and starts looking through a bag.

"So," Junho says, "you two used to date, huh?"

Khun immediately reddens. "What? Who… what?"

Junho rolls his eyes. "I don't care," he says firmly. "We both have pasts."

Khun finally looks at him, eyes softening, and he's about to say something when Chansung comes back over.

"Found them! Here," he passes an envelope to Junho, "Khun told me you were a fan."

Junho looks quizzically at Khun but Khun just shakes his head, so he flips the envelope open and starts pulling out two plastic packets. The first thing he sees is 'VIP PASS' and then he pulls the tickets out further and reads the words 'HARRY POTTER CONVENTION' and his mind immediately blanks.

He looks up at Chansung, both mouth and eyes far too wide, but he can't help it because he tried getting these tickets in three different ways and had given up any hope of ever going and now that he's been presented with such an amazing gift he's finding it a little hard to process.

"You're amazing," he breathes.

Khun and Chansung laugh.

"You didn't have to buy him off," Khun says.

"Yes he did," Junho snaps. He turns to Chansung but he doesn't really know how to accurately display his gratitude so he settles for bowing again, low, straightening up and saying simply, "Thank you."

They chat for a little while longer, Junho tucking the tickets carefully into his back pocket and patting it every so often to make sure they're still there, but before long Chansung is called over by the assistant director. He tells Junho and Khun to have a look around the set, laughing when Khun mentions not wanting to ruin anything and assuring them that it's sturdier than it looks.

The movie being filmed is the latest in an ever-growing series of action movies starring Chansung as the martial-arts hero, all of which Junho has seen multiple times and owns on DVD, and he finds himself quietly fanboying as he watches Chansung learning some fight choreography.

"Junho," Khun hisses, and Junho looks over to see him beckoning him over. He goes to him, eyes still on Chansung as he executes an amazing-looking triple-kick in the air, before forcing himself to pay attention to Khun. "This one really opens!" Khun gestures to a door of one of the houses lining the 'street' before tugging on the handle and opening it, turning back to beam at Junho.

Junho thinks it's a bit much to be excited about but he lets it go immediately and assumes the stance of a spy, bending his knees and bringing his left hand up into the shape of a gun. He presses himself flat against the wall beside the door. "Cover me," he instructs Khun.

Khun laughs and they play around for a bit, because although Khun spends most of his time being charming, sincere and mature, for some reason he's the best at bringing out Junho's playful side.

"Okay, quiet on set!" they hear a sudden voice announce, and Khun grabs his wrist and tugs him through the door into the house, closing it again behind them.

There's a little light coming in through the 'window', just enough after his eyes adjust to see Khun's face, but only because they're standing so close together, enough for Junho to feel Khun's breath on his cheek.

"This really feels covert now," Khun whispers, grinning again, and his mouth is so close Junho really doesn't think he can be blamed for pulling Khun into a kiss.

Khun pushes him against the door, palms landing flat against it, one each side of Junho's face, and presses their hips together. Junho feels like he's made of liquid fire, of lava, and he can't believe that Khun's doing this to him when there are multiple cameras only a few feet away—and then Khun suddenly pulls back.

Junho blinks, trying to reorient himself, and when he does he realises that Khun's looking at him exactly the same way as he was on the last morning they spent together, loaded with meaning enough to make Junho feel overwhelmingly nervous. He swallows. Khun's eyes follow the motion of his throat before trailing back up to his face.

"Khun—"

"I can play piano," Khun blurts.

Junho wonders where the hell that came from. "What?'

"Nothing, sorry. I just… really like you."

Khun's voice is soft and sincere. Junho doesn't know what to do, what to say, this isn't… it's not… So he takes the easy way out. He makes light of the conversation. "Me or my ass?"

There's a short moment of silence where Junho thinks Khun might be offended, but then, to Junho's relief, he says, "Do I have to choose?"

"Will I like your answer?" Junho asks but Khun doesn't respond, seeming to prefer sucking at Junho's neck instead, which, well—Junho's not going to complain.

"Come with me to my friend Junsu's charity ball," he urges quietly, his lips brushing over Junho's jaw before his tongue flicks at Junho's earlobe. "It's for a very good cause."

"Is it?" Junho asks disinterestedly, bringing up his thigh and pressing it into Khun's crotch.

Khun's breath hitches. "Yeah," he says, "HIV awareness."

Junho stops. His hands fall from Khun's body, his knee drops, and he leans away from Khun's mouth. "I can't do that," he says firmly.

Khun pulls back, looking confused. "Why? Why did you—what?"

"I know it's… I know. But I can't."

"Is this about being seen with me? Because I don't mean I buy you a corsage and we hold hands the whole night and make out over the fondue, I just want us to spend time together."

"It's not—I know that."

"Then what?" Khun tilts his head, then moves away even further, so no parts of them are touching. It hurts much more than Junho thinks it should. "Because it's for HIV?"

"I just… My family keeps track of my appearances. My mom boasts about me at church," he tries to explain. "It's stupid, but I really can't."

"But… it's just for charity," Khun says quietly, trying one last time, and Junho wants to appease him, he really does, but thoughts of his parents and his grandparents and even his sister and his niece assault him all at once and he knows it's impossible.

"I'm sorry."

Khun nods and looks down, scuffing his feet against the floor, and Junho knows that what has just happened is probably one of the most defining moments of their relationship.

Junho sighs. "Can we please just go back to your hotel?" he asks softly.

Khun gently takes his hand and leads the way.

+

They don't have sex. They sleep in Khun's bed, wrapped tightly around each other just like before, and in the morning Khun acts like everything is fine. He kisses Junho to wake him up, rolling them around and getting them tangled in the sheets. He's cheerful and chatty as he makes breakfast, he kisses Junho some more after they brush their teeth, and just when Junho is about to leave he yanks him back into the kitchen, pulling him close for an intimate handjob against the sink.

Junho's so relieved but he doesn't say it, he can't, instead hoping it'll come across in the things he does—including his reciprocal blowjob.

+

When Junho gets back to his hotel room it's to find Taec asleep on his stomach on top of the unmade covers, legs straight out and half off the bed, arms by his sides.

He looks ridiculous. Junho drops directly on top of him, making sure Taec feels the brunt of his body weight and bouncing up and down for extra measure.

"Geeeyoooh," Taec groans, arms thrashing. "Kwawwww."

"Good morning hyung," Junho says loudly.

"What is wrong with you," Taec croaks. "You never call me hyung."

"Why are you on my bed?" He bounces again.

"Because. Why weren't you in your bed?"

"Because."

"Which is code for Khun, am I right?" he leers, sounding way too awake already.

Junho ignores him and rolls off him, making sure to dig his knees and elbows in. Taec grunts in pain, flailing a hand out in a vague attempt at a slap, but Junho easily dodges him and begins to rifle through his suitcase for a change of clothes. Taec groans and hauls himself up the bed, grabbing Junho's MacBook Pro from the pillow and lifting the lid.

"Can you live for five minutes without the internet?" Junho snipes.

Taec hunches over to type something and then looks up expectantly, speaking in English. "Can you say 'she sells sea shells by the sea shore'?"

Junho hesitates. Taec grins triumphantly.

Junho pokes out his tongue and throws his dirty socks at him, moving into the bathroom. He turns on the shower, thinking about his schedule. He doesn't have much to do today, just some gym stuff and then a session with Taec, and maybe he should see Khun too? Or maybe not, Junho isn't sure, because Khun might be busy, and if they're going to the Harry Potter convention tomorrow then maybe he should do some extra training today and—

"Junho," Taec calls suddenly, and Junho's limbs lock up, because he knows that tone of voice. Carefully, he turns off the shower and pads back into the bedroom.

Taec looks up at him with wide eyes and pursed lips, and turns the laptop around on the bed.

Junho can read the news site's giant headline without having to move any closer. It takes him a moment to process what he's seeing but once he does he reaches immediately for the back of the lounge chair to steady himself, because he's either going to faint or cry. Or maybe that breakfast Khun so lovingly cooked for him is going to come right back up again.

'KHUN'S KINKY NEW CATCH!' the text screams, and as Taec clicks through a few more tabs, there's only more—'NICHKHUN TURNS UP THE HEAT', 'THE THAI'S NEW GUY' to name a few.

Each tabloid features the same thing: a story about Khun's latest lover, accompanied by a sequence of grainy images—Khun and Junho in front of Khun's apartment, Khun waiting with him for a cab and opening the door for him once it arrives, then Khun waving him off and heading back inside. They're completely innocent, of course, and they prove nothing, but that makes no difference to the media. (A part of Junho fathoms just how ironic it is that he and Khun have been on entire field trips before, kissing included, but they got caught when they weren't doing anything at all.)

The positive part of it all is that Junho's disguise seems to have held up—nowhere is he mentioned by name, despite each reporter having 'close sources' that know exactly who he is. To Junho, though, it's one hundred percent obvious it's him, no matter what the tabloids refer to him as.

"Junho?" Taec says quietly, and he shakes his head rapidly, not that it helps with his nausea.

"How would anyone even know I'm kinky," he says quietly, because he can't—what else can he say?

He's never felt quite so powerless before.

"I promise I didn't say anything," Taec murmurs, trying to cheer him up, and Junho punches him, because while their one time together had been very satisfying, it had also been the most vanilla experience in Junho's life.

+

It's a tense few hours as Junho stays huddled on his bed in his hotel room. He Googles himself compulsively every five minutes but there's nothing new, nothing anywhere that mentions his name in relation to Khun, but he can't help thinking that someone, somewhere, soon, is going to find out.

Someone always finds out.

He's just about to hit refresh on his search page for the fortieth time when suddenly the blankets he had covering his head are ripped away (and he only lets out a tiny scream of surprise). Light streams in and he squints, blinking up at his assailant to find—

"Wooyoung?" He frowns. "When did you get here?"

Wooyoung pulls the blankets all the way off the bed and dumps them on the floor. "A while ago. I called but it seems you've been busy ignoring them… and Khun's, if your eleven missed calls are anything to go by." He drops Junho's phone down on the bed and Junho edges away from it.

"I can't do it," Junho mutters. He pulls a pillow over his face in lieu of the blankets but Wooyoung takes that, too.

"This isn't even a scandal, Junho," Wooyoung says. "No-one knows it's you. And even if they did, it wouldn't end your career, not outside of Korea. You didn't do anything wrong."

"You should come out with me then, in a heroic display of solidarity."

Wooyoung snorts. "I'm not that desperate for attention, I'm the first ever Korean player to make it into a Grand Slam quarter final."

"That should be me," Junho says quietly, and with that statement comes a firm realisation that it's true. He could be winning, he should he winning, if only he was concentrating more on the right things.

He wishes he was as focused as Wooyoung, who's always working towards something, and who manages to keep his work and personal lives separate. He wishes that he hadn't allowed Khun to affect him so much, to get so deep under his skin that he'd taken so many risks and forgotten what the real world is like, that every action has a consequence. (He'd say he wishes that he'd never met Khun, but even now that would be a lie.)

Wooyoung frowns, opening his mouth to respond when Junho's phone starts to ring.

Junho stares at it in horror. "What if it's—"

"It's your mother," Wooyoung says, leaning over to push it closer.

"I'm never going to able to tell her the truth, am I?"

Wooyoung shrugs. "It's better for everyone this way." He nudges Junho's arm. "Answer it."

He picks it up. His mom's voice echoes through the speaker but instead of feeling better like he usually does, he just feels guilty.

+

Junho has never been more cowardly than when he tells Khun it's over.

His fingers are trembling as he forms a message on his English keyboard, and he has to go back and retype it when he sees he's spelled every word wrong, but eventually he manages it:

Let's take a break.

He hits send, waits for the notification that it's left his outbox, and then removes the battery of his phone.

He changes his number the next day.

+

From that point onwards, Junho's sole purpose in life goes back to playing tennis, and at first it's actually a relief to get back to a regular schedule. He can do this, this is what he's used to, everything he knows, and he throws himself back into training—eating, sleeping and breathing tennis.

The problem is that it doesn't feel as good as it used to. As a teenager, all he needed was tennis, it was everything. And he's used to winning, winning matches, winning the right attention, so he'd thought it would be better without Khun, without distractions, that it would go back to the way it was, but it's. It's.

It's hollow.

And he has no idea what to do with that.

If he doesn't have tennis, then what does he have? What's left? Tennis is his life, tennis is why he breathes, why he exists, and he has no idea what he's do without it, so while he's living it just the way he used to, before Khun, he's also completely miserable.

Of course Wooyoung picks up on it.

Their next practice game is tough, hard on both of them even as Taec shouts random encouragement and lewd comments from the sidelines, and Wooyoung eventually wins when Junho gets distracted by a tall man walking past in a red shirt.

When they meet at the net he can feel Wooyoung watching him. Junho purses his lips, stubbornly avoiding Wooyoung's gaze as they suck from their water bottles, but he's suddenly and overwhelmingly exhausted, everything he'd been trying to forget and ignore weighing down on him all over again.

Wooyoung just waits for him, quiet and patient for once, and it's the need to fill the silence more than anything else that makes Junho open up.

"I just feel so—" he blurts, stopping because he has no idea how to explain. "Like… my heart is empty." He finally looks up, more vulnerable than he has ever let himself be in front of Wooyoung before.

Wooyoung takes his time, looking more uncomfortable by the second, before pulling a briefly distressed face and leaning in close to Junho. Junho inches in too. "When I play," Wooyoung says carefully, "I have a strategy, I have points to win and records to break. I want to win, I want to be the best. But not just for myself." Wooyoung holds his gaze, and Taec chooses that very moment to approach them.

"Who wants to get their drinks up tonight?" he says loudly, doing a terrible body wave, but Junho's not really paying attention to him, because the way Wooyoung's acting, the way he's suddenly gone tense and is very carefully not looking at Taec, that tells Junho more than he ever would have found out from Wooyoung himself.

"I didn't know you were so romantic."

"It's not romantic," Wooyoung snaps, eyes finally flitting over to Taec before settling back on Junho. "It's primal. Even animals provide for their families."

Taec frowns. "Did you just call me an animal?"

"I'm not going to a club," Wooyoung insists suddenly, pointedly changing the subject. He bends down to pick up his bag. "If we're going out it's karaoke."

Junho hesitates for a moment but chooses to let it go. He could do with a night out, too. "I'm not doing Heartbreaker with you this time," he says, leading the way off the court.

"Isn't it accurate though?" Wooyoung asks and Junho stops in his tracks, surprised by how much that hurts—not that he didn't know it before, but at least he can sugar coat it for himself a little. No-one would ever accuse Wooyoung of sugar coating anything.

Junho glares at Wooyoung's back before moving again, speeding up and pushing past him, making sure he manages to bump Wooyoung as much as possible.

"Low blow, Wooyoung-ah," he hears Taec say behind him. "And not the good kind."

+

Junho wakes up with horrible hangover. After several moments of blinking at the ceiling he still can't remember what he did the night before, but then there's movement on the bed next to him. Wooyoung and Taec are asleep next to him—Taec the furthest away, squashed into a tiny section of the bed since Wooyoung is spreadeagled in the centre, his arm slung over Taec's face—and now he can at least guess what happened.

He tries to roll away from them and go back to sleep but then he's facing the window and the sun streaming around the curtains is like torture to his eyeballs, so he forces himself to get up and go to the bathroom.

On the way back he checks his schedule and realises he's supposed to be at the gym.

He cringes. The last thing he wants to do is go and work out for two hours. But he promised himself he'd follow his new regime to the letter, and discipline and hard work are what it's all about, so he drags himself down to the gym and warms up a little before snagging a treadmill that's just been vacated by a scarily-muscled old man.

And then.

Like fate. Like destiny. Like someone is having a really good laugh at Junho's life, an episode of 'Cooking with Khun' starts up on his tiny television screen.

Junho nearly falls off the treadmill.

At first he debates turning it off (who would play a cooking show at a gym anyway!) but for some reason he decides to leave it on (his latent masochism kicking in again, probably), Khun's voice, strangely enough, soothing him and helping him find a rhythm much more quickly than usual.

Khun's making char kueh teow and Junho can't decide whether to concentrate on the delicious-looking food or Khun's hands (his perfect hands, hands that are expert at many more things than just cooking) and just when he thinks he's got his breathing regulated there's a close-up of Khun's face, and he smiles, and Junho suddenly misses him so much it feels like he's been punched in the chest.

He gives up on exercising, powering down the machine, and when Khun's face blinks out of existence it feels like a another physical blow.

Which is both absolutely stupid and utterly telling.

He thought he was doing fine without Khun, because he has tennis and his friends and that's all he ever needed before, but if he's really being truthful, it's obvious he's not.

He doesn't know when his old way of life stopped being enough but he does know he likes Khun much more than he ever intended to, more than he ever thought he could, and that maybe living without him isn't the path to fulfillment.

Maybe by running away from Khun he's just letting his fear dictate his life, not doing the noble thing.

Maybe he really, really screwed up, and what he really needs to do is grow up and own up to what he's really feeling.

Maybe everything will work out, or maybe it won't, but either way, as long as he's doing it with Khun, he doesn't think he'll care.

+

The charity ball is Taec's idea but Chansung, as the only one famous enough, is who gets them invited.

The banner on the wall reads 'Hommies Against HIV' (apparently it's written in Comic Sans, which Taec had complained about as soon as they walked in, but Junho's honestly just happier to see a more original, if slightly eccentric, title), and the host is a famous Korean musician, and apparently another friend of Khun's (Junho wonders if he's somehow managed to befriend every famous Korean person in the Western world).

Junho doesn't bother with mingling, instead moving directly into investigating the building—he's got one mission tonight, and it has nothing to do with networking.

Eventually he finds a small courtyard to the side of the building, unnoticed by the smokers and surprisingly well-lit, and he texts Taec with directions and Wooyoung with a question mark. Wooyoung responds first:

he's here~ ^0^ going now, so sleepy ㅠ

Junho shakes his head as he responds, although he supposes that Wooyoung simply turning up shows his support in itself.

Taec takes a little longer and Junho's waiting in the hallway near the exit trying to fix his cuffs when Taec finally arrives, depositing a bulging plastic bag at Junho's feet. "Homemade kimchi, as requested."

Junho stares at it. "I said enough for two people, not twenty."

"That is for two," Taec says, tilting his head like a puzzled animal.

Junho sighs. "Right." He fumbles with the cufflinks again before Taec moves closer and grabs his wrists, turning them over and carefully smoothing out his sleeves, fixing them in a matter of seconds.

"Spirit fingers," Taec says.

"T-Rex hands," Junho mutters.

Taec shoves at his shoulder and he goes flying, barely stopping himself before he slams into the wall, and Taec laughs but pulls him into a hug. "You ready?"

"No," Junho says.

Taec pulls back and grins widely. "Wooyoung's waiting," he says, and the familiar glint of his teeth actually works to soothe Junho's nerves a little. "Fighting!" He pumps his fist and disappears back around the corner.

It's eerily quiet with him gone. Junho can hear the muted sounds of music and clinking glasses but he suddenly feels terribly, horribly alone.

"Stop," he tells himself, and takes some calming breaths.

Everything will be okay, no matter what happens.

With that, he stoops to pick up the bag, hefting it into his arms. It's heavier than he thought, the corners of the plastic containers digging into him, and when he tries to open the door he realises he's gone about this completely the wrong way.

The containers shift in the bag, the top ones looking dangerously close to falling out, and Junho tries to shift his weight to compensate but he can feel himself losing grip on the slippery plastic completely, and everything is just about to tip all over the floor—

But suddenly he's not even holding the bag anymore, and not because he's dropped it. Someone has taken it from him and opened the door in one smooth movement, even holding the door open long enough for Junho to register what's happening and slip through.

"Thanks a lot," he says gratefully, turning to his saviour, only to reel back in surprise because it's Khun. "Oh! I mean… anyway. Um. Thanks."

Khun shrugs, putting the bag down on a wrought-iron patio chair. "It looked heavy."

There's a long, awkward silence.

Junho swallows nervously.

Khun's expression remains blank.

Junho waits.

So does Khun.

Junho's heart sinks. He was hoping, no matter how selfishly, that Khun wouldn't make this hard on him. He clears his throat.

"It's kimchi," he says, pointing to the bag. "Homemade. You should try it. I mean… if you. Want to."

Khun just keeps watching him, moving only to lean against the table behind him, and Junho finds his gaze drawn to Khun's long legs in his fitted suit, before his eyes snap back up to Khun's face.

"I miss you," he blurts, and usually he wouldn't admit that, but Khun's eyes soften (even though he tries to cover it up by frowning and crossing his arms) and that's enough for Junho. That's more than enough. He takes a chance and steps forward, stopping once Khun is within arm's reach. Khun doesn't move away. "I miss you and I'm sorry. I know I have a lot to make up for. I know this won't make everything better. But I want to be with you."

"What about your family?" Khun asks, so quietly, so hesitantly.

"I might not ever be able to be as public about it as I'd like, or even tell my mother but." He stops and slowly extends his hand out, watching the play of emotions on Khun's face, turning his palm up and hoping. "I'm not scared anymore."

"Junho," Khun starts, and stops again, seeming frustrated. "I don't… why?"

It's such a vague question but Khun looks so earnest, so vulnerable, and its implications are so clear—why now, why will things be different this time, why have you changed, why should I? And really, there's only one answer.

"Because," Junho says clearly, "I love you." And in those three words is—you're all I think about, you're who I want to come home to, you're who inspires me, you're who makes me want to be better.

Junho knows Khun understands when he finally smiles, a proper smile, an eye-sparkling smile, and presses his hand into Junho's, pulling him towards him. Junho thinks he might be going for a hug but he puts his hands on Khun's shoulders instead, changing the angle so his mouth ends up on Khun's, pressing closer and deeper with every second. Khun kisses back with fervour, his hands wandering as usual, stroking down Junho's side to settle on his ass right as Junho starts using his tongue.

When they pull away they're both ruffled with red ears, and Junho extricates himself from Khun's embrace long enough to pat down their hair.

"Let's get out of here," he says. "My hotel this time."

They leave together.

+

Junho is woken up by the text tone of his phone, and he groans, rolling away from Khun's warm body and flailing his hand over where he estimates the bedside table to be. When his fingertips brush over smooth plastic he picks it up and squints up at it, trying to get his eyes to focus on the too-bright screen.

It's from Taec, and it's a photo with the simple caption of:

top left ㅋㅋㅋ

When Junho opens the photo at first he doesn't understand what he's looking at, but eventually he recognises the corner of the banner from last night, and a few of the more famous celebrities that had attended posing in the centre. And then his eyes drift to the top left and he finally understands why Taec had felt compelled to send the image to him.

He and Khun are standing very close, heads bent together in what almost looks like a kiss, and if he zooms in enough he can even see their fingers gripping the handles of the bag of kimchi, Khun's hand carefully resting over his. They'd been hurrying through the room, on their way to get a cab, and neither of them had thought they'd be noticed by anyone let alone caught on camera, so they'd been a little reckless, but Junho is almost surprised to find how little he cares.

His finger hovers over the delete icon, but it's then that he realises that, other than the other paparazzi pictures (which don't even count), this photo is the first one he's ever had taken with Khun. So he saves it instead.

Sometimes media intrusion is useful after all.

+

+ Leaving Normal [2PM]

2012-07-05T14:38:01Z

Title: Leaving Normal
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Chansung/Junho
Word Count: 6900 words
Notes: Prompt from here. I've been writing this on and off for eleven months now and while I'm not the original person who claimed the prompt I haven't seen a response posted, so I hope I'm not stepping on anyone's toes! Many, many thanks to augmenti for her encouragement and input.
Prompt: Chansung wakes up in a reality where he's in a relationship with Junho and neither of them had ever joined JYP. He wakes up again and he's back in this reality. He keeps switching back and forth until he's not sure which one is real or which one he wants.

+

Chansung wakes up and everything is normal. The bed is soft and only just long enough for his legs, his head is still fuzzy from only getting three hours of sleep, and he really needs to brush his teeth. He stretches languidly and enjoys the texture of the clean hotel sheets. Even though he knows Khun will be knocking at the door in a few minutes to wake him up, he can’t help but want to extend this moment and he rolls over and collides with something solid and warm.

He frowns. That’s not normal.

He pries one eye open and spots short dark hair—he must have climbed into Junho’s bed during the night. He doesn’t remember doing it but that’s no surprise, he’s found himself in much more precarious positions than this in the morning. At least he’s still in the same room. And fully dressed.

What is a surprise is when Junho lets out a sleepy little groan and turns towards him, nuzzling his face into Chansung’s neck, his breath hot on Chansung’s skin. It’s not like Junho to be so intimate, but he is asleep, and he’s probably dreaming and thinking Chansung is someone else.

"Junho," Chansung whispers. He reaches up to poke him in the cheek. "Junho."

Junho shifts again, his lips brushing Chansung's Adam's apple, and Chansung jerks at the sensation and decides that right now would be a very good time to wake him up, before he embarrasses either of them any further. He carefully slides backwards and levers himself up over Junho, leaning closer to his ear.

"Junho!"

Junho startles awake, blinking and looking pissed, and Chansung can't help laughing and poking him again.

"Stop it," Junho whines. He shoves at Chansung's face and Chansung flops back down next to him.

"You were all over me," Chansung tells him, smirking. "I think you need a girlfriend."

He reaches over to pinch Chansung's cheek. "You're a much better girlfriend than all the girls I've ever been with."

Chansung rolls his eyes and nips at Junho's fingers and Junho smiles, eyes curving, before he leans over and does the very last thing Chansung expects—he presses his lips to Chansung's.

Chansung goes still, confused and in shock, before his common sense kicks back in and he opens his mouth to tell Junho to stop. But Junho's lips are still on his and instead of pulling away Junho presses even deeper, leaning closer, a hand resting on Chansung's chest as he slides his tongue into Chansung's mouth. It lasts only a moment longer, a moment longer of one of Chansung's best friends, his brothers, swirling his tongue around inside Chansung's mouth before Junho finally stops, scrunching up his nose.

"You need to brush your teeth." And then Chansung feels his weight leave the bed, hears footsteps pad across the room, a door open and a shower turn on.

It's while he's staring at the ceiling, trying to process the fact that Junho just kissed him, that he realises it's not the same ceiling he was staring at before he went to sleep. And when he finally finds it in him to lever himself upright he realises it's not even the same room.

Chansung's head has gone from fuzzy to spinning and he has no idea what is happening because when he forces himself to get out of bed closer inspection proves that it's not a hotel room, it's not even Japan, and it's homely and it smells faintly of sweat and kimchi and there are photos everywhere of he and Junho embracing and holding hands and kissing and—

"Forgot my towel," Junho says from behind him, and Chansung spins around to see Junho completely naked and shaking his towel at him, steam billowing out of bathroom door. Chansung watches with growing horror as his grin turns coy. "You gonna join me?"

Chansung squeaks.

+

When Chansung wakes up for the second time it's with a start, and he is sitting up and scrambling up faster than he even knew he was capable of, away from the bed, away from Junho—

But no, it's okay. Junho's in his own bed across from him, they're in their hotel room, they're in Japan, and everything is fine. Everything is normal. Everything is how it's supposed to be.

Chansung lets himself breathe. It's probably stupid to get so caught up in a dream but it had felt so real, the details so complex and intricate. Usually he dreams about boring things, like eating or exercising or Jeonggam or playing video games. (There was that one time when he dreamed he was Jeonggam and was running away from a PlayStation controller that was trying to eat him, but that was definitely an anomaly.) Any nocturnal excitements usually happen to his body, when he sleepwalks or talks or eats, not inside his mind. Junsu is the one who has amazingly creative dreams about rainbow-coloured suitcases falling from the sky and swallowing people whole and Chansung is just glad that he's not Junsu because having those adventures every night seems exhausting—right now he's still tired even though he got his full four hours.

It's just that the other Junho had been so convincing, so similar to the real one, how they had both smelled and looked and sounded the same... For a second he finds himself wondering if Real Junho would kiss him the same way as the dream one but then it just gets far too creepy and he's very grateful for the knock at the door. Chansung bounds over to it, unlocking it and wrenching it open to see Khun standing just outside, and Chansung has never been happier to see him.

Khun looks surprised. "That was quick—ah! Chansung!"

The last part is a 10000% unmanly shriek as Chansung picks him up and hugs him hard, laughing in relief as he spins them around in circles.

+

In the van in the morning Chansung sits beside (read: drapes himself all over) Khun and doesn't even tease Junsu with the others when he's practicing his Japanese and says 'matsui' instead of 'matsuri'. In their first TV spot he positions himself next to Taec and has his arm around his shoulders the whole time, when they eat he gets Junsu to feed him, and in the van again to the next studio for a photoshoot he sits behind Wooyoung and plays with his hair and ears. It's a little stupid that he constantly needs reassurance that everything is okay, that this world is real and right and just how it's supposed to be, but he still feels a bit out of touch so he decides to just go with it.

The other members don't comment on it, but while Chansung's been all over them he's been avoiding Junho. He's tried not to but it just feels so awkward with him now—he's had Junho's tongue in his mouth. Well, not this Junho specifically, but a Junho, Other Junho, and it's made things hard on Chansung because while he is trying not to think about it he can't really stop, not when Junho laughs and speaks and breathes.

Thankfully Junho hasn't seemed to notice the weird tension Chansung's created between them, because he's having an off day—one of those days where he tends to tune out a little and let the members cover for him, still contributing but only when necessary, competitive edge dulled by weariness and lack of confidence with the language.

Somewhere along the line it occurs to Chansung that Junho is a relatively light sleeper and he may have noticed if Chansung did anything crazy in their room overnight. Forcing himself to get over the inner workings of his ridiculous subconscious, he pulls Junho aside while the photographer goes through something with the creative director.

Junho seems surprised when Chansung asks to talk to him, tilting his head the same way that Other Junho had right before he'd leaned in to kiss—

Chansung really has to stop thinking about that. "Did I do anything weird last night?" he asks. Junho gives him a skeptical look and he amends, "Weirder than usual?"

Junho considers. "Not that I know of. I was pretty out of it though, so I couldn't tell you for sure." He frowns. "Why, are you okay?"

"I'm… I think so. I just had a weird dream but it's… it's nothing. I'm tired." He smiles at Junho and Junho smiles back, teeth glinting in the bright studio lights.

"Maybe you should try and have a nap," Junho suggests, and Chansung can't help but think it's a good idea. Junho motions behind them and sure enough, Taec is already slumped and snoring on the couch in the corner. "Just give him a kick, he'll move over."

Chansung does, settling down beside Taec and using his shoulder as a pillow, falling asleep almost immediately.

+

It takes Chansung only a few seconds to recognize what's happening.

Junho is standing in front of him, naked, waving his towel around. Steam is billowing out of the bathroom and on the very un-hotel-like walls there are photos of Chansung licking Junho's face and—

Chansung is back.

Chansung never has the same dream twice.

Chansung is back.

Chansung can feel himself freaking out. He balks at the sight of so much skin (again) and makes a quick escape from the room, muttering something to Junho about being hungry and sliding open the bedroom door to find himself in a completely alien home. It's small and relatively basic but from the furniture and technology lying around Chansung can tell that whoever lives here (Junho? Himself? Both of them?) isn't exactly riding the poverty line, not that he can really concentrate on that right now, not when he's back.

Just like last time, it feels way too real to be a dream, but when he finds himself going through all of the possible explanations in his mind it's still the most preferable one. Because the alternatives are that he and Junho have been drugged and kidnapped and are hallucinating, he and Junho have been mentally altered and are featuring on some highly embarrassing and unlikely reality program like that film with Jim Carrey, or that he (and Junho?) have been kidnapped by aliens who do horrific experiments on the brain and are playing around with his perceptions and emotions and memories right at this very moment.

Yeah. Chansung definitely wants to stick with the dreaming scenario.

But no matter how many times he tries to remind himself that that means he'll wake up, he can't shake the feeling that this isn't just happening inside his head. The details are too real, Junho is too real and his own confusion is too real and it's been a while since he's felt this completely hopeless, but at least before he had the other members to help him through. As it is he doesn't even know where or how to start with Junho, and as for everyone else... Does Chansung even know them? Did he ever meet them? He has no idea at which point Other Chansung's life converged from his own, no idea if he auditioned for JYPE, if he was part of Superstar Survival, if he was in a sitcom, if he... well, that's one thing he does know. He and Junho certainly didn't join 2PM, and that fact alone is enough to make him feel incredibly ill.

Unfortunately, much sooner than he'd thought possible for Junho, the shower turns off and he panics, trying to figure out how to stay away from Junho without making it look like he is, trying to make it look like he belongs when he doesn't, trying to seem like he's completely in control when he's obviously having a mental breakdown.

Acting naturally comes to mind but if he tries to occupy himself he runs the risk of being extremely obvious about not knowing where anything is. The house is pretty open-plan, with one end of the small living area separated from the bedroom and bathroom by a sliding door and the other end leading directly into an even smaller kitchenette, and Chansung dives for the fridge just in time, wrenching the door open and pretending to study the contents.

When Junho re-emerges he's fully dressed and his hair is still a little damp and curling at the ends, and it's been so long since Chansung his seen his hair in anything approaching its natural state he can't help but stare.

Real Junho's hair is usually overdone, straightened to the point of singeing and styled with so much product that not a strand would come loose in a hurricane, but the Junho in front of him seems to have spent no time at all on it, a detail that Chansung is certain his subconscious wouldn't ever dare to come up with on its own.

Something is most definitely Wrong.

Junho notices him looking. "Stop staring, it makes you look ugly." And before Chansung can prepare himself Junho moves over to him and gets onto his tiptoes, leaning up for another kiss.

"No!" Chansung yelps, and jerks away just before Junho's lips touch his.

Junho eyes widen, reflecting surprise and just a little hurt. "What's wrong?"

Chansung flounders for an excuse, his mind too full and too confused and too disturbed to be creative, before he finally settles on, "Still haven't brushed my teeth."

Junho rolls his eyes and pokes his cheek instead and Chansung tries not to cringe too obviously. "Okay well my audition's in an hour, I should be there in heaps of time." He waves what looks like a script at Chansung as he backs towards the door before leaning down to pull on his shoes. "Your class today was cancelled, remember, so don't forget like last time." Chansung nods like he has any idea what Junho's talking about, and Junho waves and then the door opens and closes and he's gone and Chansung is alone and that's good, because his legs can't hold him up any more and he finds himself collapsing backwards into the fridge.

+

If only he had any semblance of any clue about what the hell is happening. From his further hurried investigations through the house (aka snooping through some photos and bills in a drawer, although Chansung is uncertain as to whether it can be called snooping since they're technically kind of almost his belongings in a way maybe) he's discovered that he and Junho have been together (and that notion is just way too weird in itself) and lived together since at least 2008, Chansung is a martial arts instructor and Junho is (trying to be?) an actor. Maybe. Unfortunately, Other Chansung doesn't keep a convenient diary outlining his life and as curious as he is, Chansung can only spend so long in a house that has pictorial evidence of his romantic relationship with Junho decorating every surface. He ventures back into the bedroom and pulls on the first pair of jeans and checkered shirt he can find, and, donning a fedora hat that must be Junho's and grabbing keys from the hook by the door that must be his, he steps outside.

At first he's nervous, unable to shake the fear that someone will recognise him, but after he passes a group of young women, forcing himself not to hide his face, and emerges completely unscathed he realises he has absolutely nothing to worry about.

It's weird, but it feels good, too. He's completely free like this, no-one wants anything from him at all, and it's liberating. When he walks down the street he can hold his head high, he doesn't have to worry about his make-up, and he can talk to whoever he wants without worrying about a scandal.

And then his stomach growls and another benefit makes itself known—he doesn't have to diet.

He forgot about a wallet or phone in his rush to escape but he finds some coins in his pocket, more than enough to afford something from a food cart, so he quickens his steps and hurries through the streets, hoping that the location of his favourite street vendors hasn't changed too.

After a while he settles into a comfortable rhythm and his thoughts drift to Other Junho, to the way so much is the same but so much has changed. How did Junho go from a Christian and successful idol to a gay struggling actor? What changed? Or maybe, he thinks, remembering that Real Junho once wanted to be an actor too, what didn't change?

He wonders if Other Chansung had something to do with it, wonders when they met, when they fell in love, how the people around them reacted—if they know. Maybe they met through JYPE, maybe that's how they got together. Maybe they got kicked out. Or maybe it goes back even further than that. Maybe they met while they were still at school. Maybe they met in the army. Maybe they met out shopping or in one of Chansung's self-defence classes, or in any number of normal situations.

Maybe they were destined.

But he can't pursue that idea because at that very moment he passes a music store and glances at the TV in the window and his thoughts are completely derailed when he sees—

Is that—

He backtracks and stands directly in front of the flatscreen, nose almost pressed to the glass.

A 2AM music video is playing.

They're still singing a ballad. There's still four members. All four members are still familiar.

It's just that one of them is Junsu.

Chansung blinks and stares as the song nears an end and the camera pans down the line of members and Chansung counts Seulong, then Changmin, then Jinwoon, but instead of Kwon's misty eyes gazing soulfully at him there's Junsu's, and it's almost too much to handle.

Chansung rears back and dashes into the shop, making a beeline for the 2PM CDs, and maybe he's a little bit frantic because—

What is even happening.

He locates the appropriate shelf and it doesn't take him long to find—

"Shit," he breathes, reaching out a shaky hand to pick up the thin rectangular packaging of Time For Change. The concept is the same, red and black and emotional expressions, but the men in the photos are not.

There's Jay, but standing next to him Chansung is astonished to see Doojoon, and then Kwon, and then further down, after Khun but before Wooyoung and Taecyeon, in the spot that is supposed to be Chansung's, is some guy he's never even seen before. He's chiseled and handsome and glowering into the distance like it's what he was born to do and it makes Chansung's heart ache.

He runs his thumb over the unknown man's face before gently replacing the CD, trying to calm his breathing. Hottest Time Of The Day sits to left of it but Chansung doesn't bother with it, instead reaching for an album he doesn't even recognise.

It's called 2PM: Tired Of Waiting and judging from the tracklist, it's this world's version of 1.59PM.

And Jay's still in it.

Jay never left. He's still in 2PM, they're still seven... only there's no Junho and no Chansung.

Chansung grips the CD so tightly he thinks it might snap.

He doesn't really know why he's finding it so hard to process this, objectively he knows it's not even real, but there's a small part of him that thinks—what if it is? What if he has to live this double life forever, this life with a boyfriend, with Junho but without everybody else he loves, this life where he's normal.

He shakes his head again. He has to go, he can't do this, can't deal with it, so he shoves the CDs back and turns to go right as the song playing overhead changes and a very familiar intro begins to play.

It's Heartbeat.

Chansung freezes.

And when he hears an unfamiliar voice rapping his lines, he jolts back into action and runs out of the store, straight into the crowded—

+

Chansung wakes up all at once, eyes wide open, completely alert. The hot studio lights, the soft music in the background, the clicking of the camera and the photographer's corresponding words of encouragement all let him know exactly where he is but he has to be sure, has to interact with his surroundings before he can trust them completely, so he turns to Taec and whacks him across the head with a cushion.

Taec yelps and sluggishly manoeuvres into an upright position, rubbing his eyes and frowning as he dislodges a contact. He blinks it back into place and finally manages to focus on Chansung. "I was having a really good dream," he complains.

"I wasn't," Chansung mutters and Taec yawns through a frown.

"Are you okay?"

"Let's go out tonight," Chansung says instead. "After our schedule. I'll pay."

Chansung knows it's stupid, knows he needs all the rest he can get, but he's just not sure he can deal with Other Junho and everything again so soon. He needs time to prepare, time to figure things out in his head, and if he's going to avoid sleep he'll need a distraction. If he offers free alcohol then Taec will definitely be up for it.

"Wow," Taec says, "you must be desperate for my company."

Taec grins stupidly and Chansung sighs before they start up a mock fight full of flailing and slapping and Khun has to tell them to be quiet.

+

Predictably enough, their photoshoot runs over time and they don't finish until after midnight—not that it matters. Chansung has grabbed Taec's arm and said goodbye to the others before they even know what's happening, pushing past Junho in the corridor and trying not to react as their shoulders brush. Their managers already know where they're going because it's the bar they always go to and they get there quickly, Chansung leading the way inside and ordering their first round before Taec has even removed his coat. He can tell Taec is surprised but for a while they don't talk, finding an empty table near the back, away from most of the noise and the crowd, taking a few minutes to settle in. Taec gulps half his beer down in one go and does something with his phone before turning to Chansung expectantly.

"Hyung," Chansung says carefully, "have you ever had really powerful dreams?"

"Yes," Taec says seriously, "when I was seven I wanted to rule the world."

Chansung punches him. "Yah, I don't mean that!"

Taec sobers immediately and takes another gulp of his beer. "Please elaborate."

"I mean... Like they feel real, almost realer than this now."

"Don't all dreams feel real at the time?"

"But it's like I know I'm dreaming, I'm still aware of the real me back in bed asleep, but at the same time it feels like it's the only reality I have and..." Chansung shakes his head, trying to find the right words, but it's hard to explain exactly how he's feeling whilst also trying to stay vague. "And I know I should want to wake up because it's so different and when I remember it afterwards it's weird but when it's happening it also feels... right, I guess."

Taec drains his beer and sets it down on the table, frowning at the froth sliding down the glass. "Well do you really want to wake up? Maybe that's a sign that you want to keep having the dream, aren't dreams supposed to be connected to our subconscious?"

"It's not that simple," Chansung says, frustrated, but he stops himself from continuing because it's obvious Taec can't help him.

"Nothing in life is simple Chansung-ah," Taec says sagely, and Chansung stares at him for a moment before punching him again.

"Why did I even come to you," he complains, and Taec shrugs.

"I don't know why you didn't go to Khun, he has those dream books, he could probably analyse all the symbolism for you."

Chansung frowns. "I don't really want to tell anyone that much about it."

"Oh," Taec says, before something dawns on him and he adds, "ohhhhhh. Right, it was a sex dream."

Chansung wrinkles his nose, about to deny it, but then he realises it might just be easier for Taec to think that it was. At least now he won't ask too many questions.

"Who was it with, someone nasty?" Taec leans in. "Was it Jinyoungie-hyung?"

Then again, Chansung always underestimates Taec's levels of depravity, and Taec giggles behind his hand as Chansung shoves him so hard he flies out of his seat.

+

They take a taxi back to the hotel when they're both feeling buzzed, neither of them willing to push it too far and incur their manager's wrath. Taec rests his head on Chansung's shoulder as soon as they settle in the backseat and promptly falls asleep but Chansung forces himself to stay awake, not only to make sure they end up where they're supposed to but also because he's still trying to avoid sleep. It's a hard decision to stand by since he's already so tired but he needs time to regroup, time away from Other Junho, and the only way to get that is if he eliminates the possibility of dreaming altogether.

It's not like going without sleep is a new concept, anyway. Maybe now it'll give him enough time to figure out what his brain is doing and then everything can go back to normal.

That said, he nearly drifts off twice in the taxi and by the time they reach the hotel and make it inside, to the elevator, up to their floor and into his room Chansung is about ready to just abandon his resolution and make like Taec.

He doesn't though, instead helping Taec onto Junho's bed—who had sent Chansung a text a few hours ago saying he was rooming with Khun for the night—and then fishing out his Japanese textbooks. If he's going to stay awake then he might as well do something useful.

+

When Khun knocks on the door again a few hours later, Chansung's greeting isn't half as exuberant as the morning before. He drags himself over to the door, rubbing his eyes and fumbling with the handle before pushing it down.

At the sight of him Khun recoils a little and then tries to make it seem like he hadn't. "Wow Chansung-ah, couldn't you sleep?"

Khun looks at him expectantly, but all he can remember is the Japanese word for 'breakfast' so he just shakes his head. Thankfully Khun doesn't question him further and pats him on the shoulder before he moves over to Taec and begins the arduous process of waking him up.

+

It's when they're on the plane back to Korea that evening that he finally gives in. The flight isn't long and he usually doesn't sleep on planes—he's not like Taec, who can sleep anywhere, even standing up—but he's just so tired and he's sitting next to Junsu who is concentrating on composing a song on his iPad and doesn't even notice when Chansung's head hits his shoulder. Chansung can hear the muted notes of Junsu's creation through his sub-par Apple headphones (Junsu accidentally left his Beats at the hotel and had to 'borrow' them from Wooyoung, much to his chagrin) and he lets the sounds lull him until he's completely relaxed, eyes sliding shut and then—

+

When Chansung opens the front door an indeterminate amount of time later, Junho is already home, sitting on the couch watching television.

"Hey," Chansung says, pausing in the doorway, still uncomfortable around him. He toes off his shoes and quietly shuts the door, but Junho doesn't even look at him.

Maybe he's not feeling well. Maybe his audition for went badly. Maybe he's realised something isn't quite right with Chansung.

Chansung watches him for a moment longer before heading into the kitchen for a drink. He boils the kettle and makes some herbal tea, sneaking glances at Junho as he waits, but aside from the steady rise and fall of his chest Junho barely moves.

"What are you watching?" He places Junho's mug of tea on the arm of the couch before sitting next to him. With a jolt he realises it's an episode of Khun and Gain on We Got Married and he shakes his head, really not wanting to go there, and gently prises the remote from Junho's hands to turn off the TV. "Junho? What happened?"

Junho's quiet for a while longer, staring at his hands until Chansung reaches out and takes them in his own. He knows he should stay away but he can't ignore Junho when he's like this, could never ignore him, and he doesn't think twice before moving to console him.

"I saw her," Junho says quietly.

Chansung frowns. He can't even try to guess who Junho is talking about. In this world it could be anyone. "Who?"

"My... my mother. I saw her with some friends, and I know she saw me too. She looked right at me but she... It was like she looked through me. Like I didn't even exist." His face crumples and he pulls away, and Chansung tries his best to put the pieces together. "They were her church friends," Junho continues softly, "so I guess I understand."

And then Chansung catches on. Church. So Junho did come out to his family, then.

Junho clears his throat and looks up and finally Chansung gets a good look at his face. He hates what he sees—Junho is obviously devastated but trying to be brave, trying to be okay, and it's really not working.

Chansung's heart clenches painfully and he feels so awkward and helpless. He would know exactly what to do with Real Junho, but with Other Junho he's still so edgy and unsure. He wishes that he could help fix the problem but he knows that he can't, and he might not be around to see the results through anyway. All he can do is drag Junho closer to him and wrap him in his arms, and even though Junho tenses up at first he ends up pressing his face into Chansung's shoulder, just breathing. Eventually he pulls back and looks up and Chansung looks down and Junho seems so troubled and he's leaning up and he's getting so close that it's nothing at all for Chansung to just lower his head and press his lips to Junho's and...

It's nice.

It's warm and soft and Junho wastes no time in opening his mouth and using his tongue so then it gets wet but it's still surprisingly pleasant. Junho runs his tongue carefully across Chansung's lower lip and Chansung finds himself responding, his hand cupping Junho's cheek and tilting his head back to press deeper, enjoying the sensation of their mouths sliding together, the way Junho's breath puffs out of his nose against his top lip, how Junho is slipping his fingers up underneath his shirt and over the skin of his back.

"Chansung," Junho breathes, "Chansung—"

+

"Yah, Chansung!" Something hard and hollow whacks across his head and he startles awake, eyes wide as Junsu lowers his sunglasses case and adjusts the designer shades preemptively perched on his nose. "We're landing," he says helpfully. "Are you going to leave your hyung to go through it all alone?" And then he starts to talk about his lyrics, ignoring Chansung's pointed pouting and head-rubbing.

When he's sure Junsu won't notice, Chansung looks across the aisle over at Junho in the window seat. He seems busy watching the runway as they land, and he's chewing on some gum in an effort to distract himself from the nausea he feels whenever they ascend and descend, no matter how many times they fly. His tongue flicks out to push the wad of gum back in when it gets stuck on his lip, and that's when Chansung forces himself to turn back to Junsu and pretend to be fascinated by his ramblings.

+

Not for the first time and definitely not for the last, Chansung is actually grateful for their insanely busy lives. From the time they land they're pushing to meet a schedule, getting briefed in the van until they reach their performance venue, rehearsing, getting their costumes on and hair and make-up done, recording some messages for random endorsements backstage and then finally performing. Then they shower, do a quick phone interview in the van on the way back to the airport and they're flying back to Japan, where Chansung makes sure he's sitting next to Wooyoung and they play pattycake most of the way back. Chansung has absolutely no time at all to think about Junho or kissing Junho or Junho's mouth or Junho's tongue or Junho's fingertips skimming over his shoulder blades or—

Except now he's in bed. Thankfully, he's not sleeping in the same room as Junho tonight—Junsu has that honour, because they wanted to go over some composition stuff—but instead he's again sharing with Taec, who stopped complaining about the noise Junho and Junsu were making in the next room about half an hour ago and started snoring instead. Khun and Wooyoung both try to sleep early so there's no way they'll be awake, and so Chansung is alone with his thoughts.

His ridiculous thoughts, his utterly impossible thoughts, his thoughts that make him feel like he's betraying Real Junho every time he thinks them, his thoughts that scare him but at the same time, give him… hope? It's confusing and he has no idea what's going on, not in his head and definitely not in his heart. Everything that seemed so simple before now feels impossible and everything that was instinctive he now has to second-guess. If there was anything he could rely on, it was always his relationships with the members, always. They've been there for each other since the start, their roles in each others' lives so clearly defined, but now that this is happening it's messing with everything Chansung thought he knew and he's finding it hard to adjust.

He finds himself wondering about Other Junho. If he's okay. What he's thinking, what he's feeling. (Assuming, of course, he is at all—he has no idea what even happens to Other Junho when he's not there. Is there, in fact, an Other Chansung who's around when Chansung himself isn't?) And that's another frightening thing—for all of his confusion, Chansung is sure of one thing: he doesn't like the idea of not seeing Other Junho again. Their relationship is so different, so much more intimate in ways Chansung would never have imagined, and seeing that side to his friend, being privy to all of his thoughts and emotions and not just the ones put through the best friend filter, is addictive. The intensity of that type of relationship is something he'd forgotten about, and now that he's experiencing it again he's finding it harder and harder to let go.

It could just be that he's getting muddled up, that his lack of sleep is causing the lines between the two realities to blur, but at this very moment, at this very point in his life, Chansung isn't sure how much he cares.

Sighing, he pulls his spare pillow down between his legs and clamps them around it, trying to get comfortable, but there's suddenly a million reasons why he can't. It's like one of the nights leading up to a concert and the more he tries to sleep, the more it eludes him, and he's left a restless ball of energy, kicking his sheets around and getting frustrated with his inability to control his own body.

He tosses and turns for another half an hour, willing his head to empty, but he's only more and more awake with each passing moment so he stops trying and sits up, head in his hands as he wonders what to do. He could call Seulong but he doesn't want to talk, he could study but he doesn't have the motivation, he could listen to music or read but he can't concentrate.

Exercise. What he really needs is exercise. He hasn't had as much time as he would like to train, has missed the comforting burn and stretch of using his muscles, and he readies himself quickly and quietly in the dark, sending a quick message to one of their managers so that someone knows where he is.

He's impatient on the way to the hotel's gym, bouncing on his toes when he waits for the elevator, pulling the brim of his cap down over his eyes and willing the floor numbers to decrease more quickly. He thinks of nothing but the forthcoming relief until he reaches the gym, takes care of entrance requirements, stows his backpack, and weaves his way around the equipment until he sees a familiar body shape that makes him stop dead.

Of all the people it could be. Of all the people he wanted avoid.

Junho is on the treadmill, headphones in, focused and determined as his feet pound out a steady rhythm. He hasn't seen Chansung yet and Chansung can't stop his gaze drifting down and over his sweaty neck, the white t-shirt clinging to his torso, the black basketball shorts curving over his ass. The slight shake of his legs means he's been going for a while and almost ready to finish and Chansung definitely wants to leave before he does.

He turns to go back to his room but then he sees a sign for the sauna and goes there instead, stripping down to his towel and stepping inside, the heat immediately permeating his skin. He's the only one inside so when he sits down he spreads out and closes his eyes. He concentrates on the humidity and leans back against the wall, breathing deeply and slowly in an exercise Jinyoungie-hyung taught him right back when he was a trainee. His mind finally empties and the tension drains out of his limbs and his exhaustion finally catches up with him, and it's only a matter of minutes before he falls asleep.

+

Chansung is hot. Really hot. It feels worse than that time they filmed the Spris video in summer with hoodies on and he's just about to explode but then he feels skin, skin on his skin, and he opens his eyes and—

It's Junho. No, Other Junho, and the distinction is very relevant, incredibly relevant, because right now Other Junho is lying naked on top of Chansung, who is also naked, and licking at his collarbone. Chansung's eyes widen and he tries not to freak out and he realises that his own hands are gripping Junho's ass. He lets out a little high-pitched noise and releases Junho's buttocks, making him stop what he's doing and glance up at Chansung, confused.

"What's wrong?" he asks, and Chansung freezes. Junho's eyes are a little red-rimmed, like earlier when they fought, when they kissed, and Chansung realises that this is still the same day for Other Junho. That Other Junho will still be feeling hurt and vulnerable and if Chansung rejects him now he might end up in the same state as he was before. He might end up worse. And if there's anything Chansung doesn't want to see again, it's that.

"Nothing's wrong," Chansung assures him. As proof he leans up to kiss Junho, making himself relax as he swipes his tongue over Junho's teeth. He can do kissing, he likes kissing, and Junho's actually really good at it. When Junho pulls away even his eyes are smiling, until his expression quickly shifts and he kind of looks a bit wicked, going back to mouth at Chansung's shoulder.

You're doing this for Junho, Chansung reminds himself, repeating it over and over, again and again as Junho lowers himself even further, and Chansung can feel his hot breath tickle the skin of his abs and then his belly button and then his happy trail and then—

Chansung squeezes his eyes shut and Junho's mouth closes over his dick. "Fuck," is all he can manage, because Junho is so good at this, just the right amount of suction and saliva, obviously he knows exactly how Chansung likes it, but he pulls off before Chansung can get too into it. He smiles softly, reaching up to push Chansung's hair off his forehead.

"I love you," he says.

Chansung is already saying it back before he realises it may not be a complete lie.

+

When Chansung wakes up again he isn't sure where he is, but as he hovers on the precipice between consciousness and sleep he also realises one important thing: he's not sure that he cares.

His life, 2PM, his relationship with Junho, nothing is certain, nothing is fixed, nothing is right and nothing is wrong. There are so many possibilities and whatever happens for him now, he'll get through it. He'll get through because wherever he is, there are people that love him—no matter how that love may manifest itself.

And so, with an open heart and an open mind, Chansung opens his eyes.

+

+ Miscellaneous Fare 2 [2PM]

2012-06-13T13:38:50Z

Second bunch~

Still pimping One Day Big Bang (onedaybb). DSCS, longfic go.

+

The Same But Different
Nichkhun/Taecyeon. PG-13. ~120 words. Really early meme challenge response. Kind of angsty and with Taecjay implications—I think.
"Stop," Khun says, but Taecyeon doesn't.

"Stop," Khun gasps, arching up, but Taecyeon doesn't. His teeth drag across Khun's throat and then down, to a chest that Khun knows is just as pale but nowhere near as defined, to legs that Khun knows are just as lean, but far too long.

Taecyeon reaches out, rubs and then tugs, and Khun moans. Taecyeon leans over him, grins—and then it disappears, something like realisation crossing his features. He blinks, frowns, lets go, moves away so there's no contact. Like it would kill him if there was.

Khun is used to this. He wishes he wasn't. He sits up, dares to get closer.

"Stop," Khun says, meaning it differently and wanting to comfort, but Taecyeon doesn't.

+

Resistance Is Futile
Nichkhun/Taecyeon. PG-13. 600 words. Meant for a porn meme challenge but never got past fluffy domesticity.
He's determined that he's not going to let Taec do this, not going to let him win him over with his words and touches like always.

There's no toilet paper.

Thankfully, Nichkhun isn't in a position at this moment where he needs any, but what if he had been? What if he'd really needed it, what if he'd been relying on it and it wasn't there? It's the principle of it, it's the expectations he has that aren't being fulfilled, it's the latest in a long line of disappointments and it's essentially a back-breaking piece of straw.

"Hey," he says, pushing into the bedroom after he's washed and dried his hands, "there's no toilet paper."

Taec's lounging on the bed and looks up from his laptop only briefly. "Sorry, I must've forgot. I'll get some tomorrow."

"That's what you always say."

"We don't run out that often, do we?"

Nichkhun's standing far enough away not to be able to hit him so he kicks him instead, leg stretching out all the way, his toes catching Taec's shoulder.

"Ow!" Taec looks up properly now, frowning, his glasses reflecting a miniature laptop screen. "I hate your legs."

"You love my legs," Nichkhun says, before he can stop himself, realising what he's started far too late to take it back.

"Yeah I do." Taec's expression turns greasy and he closes the lid of his laptop, setting it aside to launch himself up and pull Nichkhun closer. Nichkhun stifles a yelp of surprise as Taec pulls him down onto the bed, laying him out straight before wriggling up behind him, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight. His legs clamp around Khun's too, one foot stroking up and down his calf as Taec gently bites his ear. "I love them a lot."

Nichkhun rolls his eyes. He's determined that he's not going to let Taec do this, not going to let him win him over with his words and touches like always, but when Taec's hand slides under his shirt and his stomach tenses up and his willpower dissolves, like always.

Taec laughs quietly, breath puffing against his ear, and strokes his fingers lightly over Nichkhun's stomach because he knows it makes him squirm. "Try to keep fighting it," he teases, "I dare you."

"I'm not in the mood for games," Nichkhun complains, batting at Taec's hand, knowing even as he says it that this is part of it, that he's choosing to play right into it.

"I'm not either," Taec says, pressing his hips to Nichkhun's, and this time Nichkhun isn't prepared enough to suppress anything and he gasps, sharp and needy and embarrassing. Taec doesn't laugh at him this time though, he just moves even closer, his pelvis pushing uncomfortably into Khun's ass. "I'm sorry I forgot," he says gently. "It was an honest mistake."

"And the crab soup?"

"You can't get mad at me for that, I was making you dinner!"

"I hadn't eaten all day and by the time we realised it was inedible everywhere was closed."

"Not everywhere," Taec insists. He rolls Khun over and lowers himself on top of him. "Just everywhere you wanted to eat."

"That's practically the same thing." Khun tries to resist, he really does, but then Taecyeon leans down and nudges their noses together, his lips sliding down for a kiss as his hands work on Khun's fly.

"Wait, wait," Khun breathes, nudging Taecyeon away, "didn't we run out of condoms too?"

Taec grins. He clambers over Khun and pulls open the drawer of the bedside table, where there are five boxes of condoms in different varieties, arranged in a neat row.

"So you remembered those then," Khun says wryly.

"I had incentive," he answers, and rips open a box.

+

+ Miscellaneous Fare 1 [2PM]

2012-06-09T11:59:42Z

Firstly, I'm gonna take advantage of this post and encourage anyone who's interested in writing longfic to sign up for 2AM/2PM big bang, onedaybb! It's always been a lot of fun every time I've been involved and the mod augmenti is basically an incredible person, so anyone, everyone, join up!

Secondly, I've been terrible with responding to comments (and injuries haven't helped with that, ugh) but I really want that to change. So anyone who's ever commented on anything of mine, I just want you to know that it means so much and I really appreciate it, and I'm gonna work on going back and responding to everything—no matter how old it is.

Anyway, onto the fic. I found these in my fic folder when I finally worked up the courage to tidy it up. I have so many copies of everything I knew it was going to take a while. I'm in the middle of about ten (not an exaggeration, crying face) longer wips rn so I thought I'd post these in the interim. I'll post some more (Taeckhun, ooh ah) in the next few days~

+

I Said Burn
Chansung, Jay, Taecyeon, Fei. PG-13. 500 words. Inspired by Bring It On.
Chansung doesn't know what it is about being a male cheerleader that makes people think it's okay to bully him.

Chansung is on his way to bio class when Jay stops him in the courtyard.

"Hey homo," Jay sneers. "No pom poms today?"

Chansung sighs. "Jay," he greets politely. He steps aside, trying to escape the confrontation peacefully, but Jay's crew steps up behind him and keeps Chansung in place. "Can I help you?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" one of the cronies says. He makes a vague motion with his hand and his cheek that Chansung guesses is supposed to indicate a blowjob, and they all crack up.

Chansung blinks. "I'd like to go to class."

"Class is for homos," Jay says automatically, his eyes narrowing in contempt, and Chansung is just wondering how to even start addressing the ridiculousness of the comment when a hand lands on his shoulder.

"Hey guys," Taec says, stepping in front of Chansung. "There a problem? We've got class."

The group erupts into malicious laughter again but Jay jerks his head and they break apart to form a passageway for Taec, who grabs Chansung's sleeve and pulls him through.

"Thanks," Chansung mumbles, keeping close to him.

"We'll show them when we make nationals," Taec says, slapping him on the shoulder, and Chansung allows himself one last look at Jay before following Taec into the building.

Practice used to be fun, used be full of strategising and banter and teamwork and working hard, but lately Jay and his crew have taken to watching them, sniggering and performing lewd re-enactments of their cheers from the bleachers.

Chansung doesn't know what it is about being a male cheerleader that makes people think it's okay to bully him. Cheering is just as much a recognised sport as anything else, and requires a ridiculous amount of fitness and dedication. It's something he loves doing and he should feel good doing it, but instead he just feels frustrated and embarrassed. Last week he pulled a muscle in his calf because he was too self-conscious to stretch properly, and even though Taec doesn't hesitate to bend into all sorts of compromising shapes in front of whoever is around, he's always been a lot more confident than Chansung and it's just not fair.

"Chansung," someone says softly. Chansung looks up from his sitting toe-touch on the grass and watches as Fei pulls her hair into a ponytail. "Are you okay?"

He brings his legs back up and crosses them. "I don't know. They're such assholes."

"Just ignore them, they're not worth your time," she says, sitting down next to him. She manoeuvres onto her back and smiles. "Help me stretch?"

Chansung feels some satisfaction that when Jay next looks over, his jaw drops as he watches Chansung press close to Fei. When she hooks her leg over his shoulder, he leans forward and their groins brush together, and Jay's mouth opens even wider.

Chansung nods at Jay, pushing harder and grinning as Fei lets out a little moan.

+

Breathe In Breathe Out
Jay. PG-13. 600 words. Old drabble inspired by the knowledge that Jay doesn't smoke.
Jaebum has his first cigarette the day after he arrives back in Seattle. Jay has his last cigarette the very minute before he activates his YouTube account.

Jaebum has his first cigarette the day after he arrives back in Seattle. He buys them himself, dressing in a hoodie and the grease-smeared overalls he used to wear to work in his uncle's garage, waiting until midnight and sneaking out of home to slink to the nearest gas station. The girl at the counter is chewing her hair and reading a magazine, and she doesn't even look up when passing Jay his 25s.

He pays with barely-familiar money, money where counting into the thousands means you're a rich motherfucker, and as he leaves the girl's phone goes off (lalalalalalala pretty ba-by, lalalalalalala be my la-dy), and he is frozen with the shock of it, because—she's white, and fat, with badly-bleached hair and she's such an average American it's completely preposterous.

He has to force his feet to move, to step one in front of the other, to break into a run, out of the gas station, down his street, past his house, running running running until he can barely breathe. When he reaches the small alleyway where he used to play Power Rangers with his brother as a kid, he finds the darkest spot he can and finally unwraps his cigarettes, fingers shaking, fumbling with the plastic, and he almost drops his first one. He jams it between his lips, flicking the lighter he stole from home and taking a deep breath.

It's disgusting, but the high he gets from inhaling is just what he needs.

And then he goes directly into a coughing fit, feeling the muscles of his abdomen clenching and pulling, knowing what he's doing is wrong, but he can't bring himself to care. Instead, he closes his eyes and focuses on the rough taste of tar and ash and everything that will slowly kill him in his mouth.

Jay has his last cigarette the very minute before he activates his YouTube account. He's in his backyard, right at the back along the fence line and behind the shed, making the most of the router Jehan installed last year so their mom could watch 2PM on her laptop. There is one cigarette left in the packet, and he takes it out almost reverently, carefully slipping it in the gaps between his pointer and middle fingers, holding it exactly in the centre. He lights it, watching the tip glow red before fading to black, smoke immediately rising and invading his nostrils, before perching it between his lips and dragging on it slowly, almost used to the taste, now.

There's a certain breed of importance attached to this tiny cylinder that he doesn't care to think too much about—instead, he lets himself relax, feels some of the tension drain out of him, shoulders slumping and mouth unpursing. He's uncharacteristically nervous as he reads over his profile notes again, checking his Korean for the fifth time, checking his name is spelt right, before finally deciding he's done. The cursor pinwheels, turning rainbow and saving his changes, his new life loading right before his eyes, and he takes a moment to consider the irony of the fact that the very medium that helped screw him over is the same thing that is going to relaunch his career.

Almost too soon, he sucks the cigarette one last time, hard, taking it right down to the filter before flicking it next door and closing the lid of his laptop. He crumples the cigarette packet in his fist and exhales slowly, cathartically, and everything (his lungs, his head, his heart, his soul), for the first time in a long time, feels clear.

+

Here There Be Dragons
Chansung, Khun. PG-13. ~1030 words. Meme challenge I don't think I ever posted(?). Based on Eragon.
This egg is something extraordinary, Chansung can feel it.

Chansung finds the egg while he's sparring with Khun in the forest. Khun hasn't had the same training as him and their fighting styles differ but it doesn't matter, because not only is Khun his closest friend, but he's the only one in the village whose skills are remotely comparable to his.

It's when they're taking a break, Chansung tending to a scrape on his arm and Khun collapsed on his back under the tall, tall trees, looking through the gaps between the foliage, searching for signs of life in the sky above, that Chansung sees it. At first it's nothing more than a shimmer of light, caught in the corner of his eye, and he dismisses it as something left behind by children from their village. But when he looks again it shines brightly, reflecting the sun more intensely than even the most polished metal.

Before he realises it he has stowed the medical supplies back in his pack and is on his feet, moving towards the light as if compelled.

"What is it?" Khun asks softly, turning his head, but Chansung shrugs. He has no reason to divulge anything yet—if it is nothing, then Khun will tease him for it, and if it is something, then he wants to know its exact nature before letting Khun have a share in the glory.

"I'm thirsty," he says instead, and makes for the stream to their left. Khun takes his answer at face value, turning back to his task, and Chansung waits until his attention is completely diverted again before doubling back in the direction of the light.

He only has to search for a few minutes before he finds it, a dazzling glitter amongst the dreary browns and greens of the forest floor, and when he bends to pick the leaves off its characteristics are finally revealed.

It's oval-shaped, about the size of Khun's head, and the deepest, truest blue Chansung has ever seen. After several moments of crouching and staring, Chansung slowly reaches out his hand, curiosity overcoming any sense of danger. His fingers brush along the smooth surface of the egg, and when he extends his other hand out to lift it it's a bit heavier than he imagined, and he nearly overbalances, his body jolting forward to compensate for his miscalculation.

Chansung tests the weight some more, bringing the egg closer, and it's then that he can see a faint pattern in the shell, alternating blues and silvers sweeping and swirling across the surface. It's beautiful. Chansung wonders what's inside, if he should leave it where he found it, if it's right to disturb nature at work, but something tells him this egg is far from native to this forest. This egg is something extraordinary, Chansung can feel it, and until he can figure out what it is it seems important to do his best to look after it. Which means, of course, keeping it a secret.

"Yah, Khun," he calls, and he hears a faint humming in response, "I'm heading back to the village." He hurries away before Khun can answer, wrapping the egg in his tunic, careful not to drop it.

That night Chansung places the egg on the small, knee-high table he uses to consume his meals and sits to watch it, mesmerised by the shiny surface. He falls asleep sprawled across the table, the egg nestled in the crook of he elbow.

Chansung can't help it—as much he tries, he can't stop thinking about the egg. He worries that something will happen, that he'll miss the hatching, or that Kwon's rabid dog will somehow find its way into Chansung's shack and destroy it. He finds himself unable to concentrate, disregarding his work on Khun's family's farm and constantly turning back to keep watch over his tiny shack. His work declines and Khun offers to help but Chansung can tell that he's causing problems for everyone, so he resolves to work harder, forcing himself to stop fixating on the egg.

When he's finally finished he hurries home, bursting inside to find everything as he left it, relieved but unable to completely purge his earlier agitation, and as a result the egg joins him in his sleeping pallet that night. And every night for the next week.

Eventually Chansung wonders if he should be doing something more for the egg. He has no idea what he's doing but he remembers when Khun's sister reared chicks, remembers her proud recounting of her care that led to their hatching, how important it was to keep them warm, and he's been doing that, but nothing has happened.

When the egg finally does hatch he's completely unprepared. He's sleepy and ravenous, the tiny cut of meat afforded to him by Seulong the butcher barely enough to curb his hunger, and he's completely taken aback when the egg starts shifting on his blanket, something pecking at the shell from the inside. After his initial surprise wears off Chansung shifts closer, and closer still, watching with wide eyes as cracks start to appear, distorting the beautiful markings, before, finally, a jagged section of shell pops out and onto the floor.

Nothing happens for a few moments and Chansung finds himself leaning directly over the egg, trying to see inside, his breath held in anticipation, and he jerks backwards when a tiny, scaly head pokes out, rocking the egg back and forth and nearly tipping it over before a whole body emerges. It trips over part of the shell and finally stands upright.

"A dragon," Chansung breathes, then shakes his head. Perhaps he's dreaming. Perhaps he's gone crazy. Perhaps Seulong has poisoned him.

The dragon tilts its head and blinks its big brown eyes at him. It opens its mouth but no sounds come out, a fact which seems to frustrate it greatly. When it shakes its head and tries again, this time opening its mouth as wide it can and straining so hard its entire head shakes, that's when Chansung realises that he very much hopes this is reality, because he has just fallen quite in love with the tiny creature.

I think the dragon was going to be Taec, lol. And Chansung wasn't going to love him romantically, just to clarify. In my head he has Khun the Elf Prince for that.

+

+ Conflict Resolution [2PM]

2012-01-10T02:40:59Z

Title: Conflict Resolution
Rating: PG
Characters: Chansung (Wooyoung/Junho)
Word Count: ~3400
Notes: Written for kpop_ficmix, where I was lucky enough to be assigned biases. This gave me an opportunity to do some things I haven't had the chance to before, which I'll always appreciate. Remix of War and Peace and originally posted here.
Summary: Nine times Chansung suspects there's something going on with Wooyoung, and the one time it's confirmed.

+

9. Wooyoung's text message is typically short and includes a suitably ironic emoticon:

Got detention, it reads, go home without me. ^0^

In a way, Chansung should be glad that Wooyoung even bothered to let him know, but actually he's just really really curious. Wooyoung talks back to teachers sometimes but only when he knows he can get away with it, and he's very good at figuring out just how far to push things, carefully controlling and guiding every altercation to get what he wants. He's been scolded but he's never been so reckless as to get detention before, and as Chansung walks home alone he wonders what went wrong.

+

8. He finds out that evening. He's supposed to be working on his algebra but instead he's talking to Khun about their taekwondo competition on Sunday when suddenly Khun laughs, a loud, grating exclamation over the tinny speaker of Chansung's phone.

"Oh my God," Khun manages, "this is just—you're friends with a Wooyoung, right?" he asks, and Chansung tips back to lay out straight on his bed, hugging his banana-shaped body cushion and wondering what Wooyoung has to do with anything.

"Why?"

"I'm gonna email you something that Taec sent me, hold on..."

Chansung groans but drags his laptop closer anyway, waiting for it to boot up.

"Okay tell me when you get it," Khun says, sounding way too eager.

"It isn't something to do with Twilight again is it?" Chansung asks, suspicious, before he opens the attachment to see what looks like a photo of a classroom whiteboard.

"Are you looking at it?"

"Yeah..." Chansung tilts his head and squints. "What is it?"

"Are you serious?" Khun asks. "It's a di—"

"Ohhhhhhh," Chansung breathes, "I see it now. And is that... is that supposed to be Mr Peters?"

"I think he's 'Mr Penis' to Jinwoon and his friends," Khun says, laughing some more. "Seriously, your Wooyoung is talented but he's also very brave."

Chansung agrees—everyone knows that Mr Peters has a short fuse, so Wooyoung must have been either very bored or very angry to provoke him like that.

"Still, it's a good resemblance," Khun continues. "Taec and the rest of the soccer team have printed out pictures and decorated their locker room."

They talk for another ten minutes or so before one of Khun's sisters needs help with something, and Chansung hangs up only to call Wooyoung immediately, but Wooyoung doesn't pick up. Chansung is so preoccupied by thinking about his friend that none of his homework gets done.

+

7. "Chansung," Wooyoung says from where he's pretending to work on his English verbs from Chansung's bed. He yawns because it's getting late but this is nothing new for either of them. Wooyoung is a common fixture at Chansung's house, and his parents are quite happy to have him over because Chansung has told them all about Wooyoung's father, told them how much he disapproves of Wooyoung's art, and they've taken it upon themselves to be as supportive as they can. They're great like that, and Chansung knows it, especially since Wooyoung's family life can be so difficult.

"Yeah," Chansung says from where he's doing sit-ups on the floor. He's counting but he'll make an effort to listen.

"You have dreams and stuff, right?" Wooyoung sounds like he's trying very hard to seem disinterested. "Ambitions and plans?"

"Of course," Chansung puffs. In the great scheme of things he doesn't know much, but being persistent and never giving up and always giving your best—those things, he could write a book on. "I'm going to keep working, I'm always going to stand up and try, just like a weed."

"Right," Wooyoung says, but there's still too much emotion in his voice for him to be as satisfied with the conversation as he's making out.

Chansung stops and gets up, finally giving Wooyoung his full attention. Wooyoung never talks about this stuff, about what he's thinking or feeling. He's never been this open and unguarded before, and that makes Chansung both confused and intrigued. He waits for Wooyoung to continue but he doesn't, just keeps dragging his pencil over the same line in the border of his workbook until it's darker than the printed ink.

Chansung wonders if he should push him. Sometimes that's the only way to get a honest response from Wooyoung but he also doesn't want to go too far, because that can mean Wooyoung won't talk to him for days.

He decides to try it. He sits on the edge of the bed and takes Wooyoung's hand, playing with his fingers. Wooyoung doesn't take his hand back. Chansung takes that as encouragement. "Are you okay?" he asks, but Wooyoung immediately shuts down, taking his hand back and shuffling away.

"I'm fine," he says stiffly, and Chansung sighs, because of course he is, Wooyoung's always okay. He shakes his head, about to slide back to the floor when Wooyoung hurriedly adds, "But there's this guy in detention. He's annoying and he likes sports so there's obviously something wrong with him—"

"Obviously," Chansung says drily.

"But he knows exactly what he wants, too. He has fans. And a stalker."

Chansung laughs. "What, you want a stalker?"

Wooyoung pulls a face. "No, I want... I don't know. Maybe that's the problem." Chansung is touched, happy that Wooyoung is reaching out to him, and is about to pull him into a hug when Wooyoung continues, "You know what, whatever. Just get me ice-cream."

He throws his pencil at Chansung and Chansung laughs again and relents. He's happy to take it one step at a time, if that's what Wooyoung wants.

It's when he's standing at the freezer, fishing out a flavour he knows Wooyoung will like, that he can't help but wonder who got Wooyoung to open up like that in the first place.

+

6. It's not like Chansung planned to peek, it's just—Wooyoung's kind of picky about hygiene and would never eat anything off the ground, so when he drops his chopsticks on the cafeteria floor he has no choice but to go and get new ones. He grumbles and curses as he goes, leaving his sketchbook open and unattended on the table, and Chansung has never been very good at containing his curiosity. So, shooting a furtive glance at Wooyoung to establish his position, Chansung leans forward and takes a look.

The drawing isn't big, and he's drawn it using his cartoonish technique rather than his true-to-life one, but it's a picture of a guy with a soccer ball wearing a uniform with a 'J' on it. He has really small eyes and Chansung wonders if Wooyoung's experimenting with exaggerating features, because the curve of the subject's ass seems way too prominent. It's a nice sketch though, it's cute, and Chansung is a little surprised because typically that's not Wooyoung's style. He sometimes draws funny caricatures but usually it's his observations about real life, entertaining scenes or interesting faces.

Chansung's about to reach forward and turn the page, interested to see if there are any more pictures of 'J', but he hesitates to look back at Wooyoung and it's a good thing he does because Wooyoung has already turned around to come back. When he glances over and sees Chansung he frowns, and Chansung hunches over his food and shoves a giant spoonful of rice into his mouth, trying to look innocent.

Wooyoung arrives at the table and slams down his new chopsticks, yanking his sketchbook back and closed. "Did you look at this?" he asks suspiciously. "Yah, Chansung."

Chansung finally looks up at him, making his eyes as big as possible. "Hmm?"

"Hmph," Wooyoung answers, and they finish their meal in silence.

+

5. Wooyoung's detention and Chansung's taekwondo training end at the same time on Wednesday nights so they walk back to Chansung's house together. Wooyoung's a little more perky than usual, humming a girl group song as they walk, but Chansung chooses not to question it. He gets out his keys when they reach his house and unlocks the door, leading the way inside. They take off their shoes and Chansung heads for the kitchen, but he loses Wooyoung somewhere along the way and backtracks to find him still in the hall, in the doorway where Chansung's brother is watching soccer on TV.

"Shouldn't you be studying," Chansung says, entering to playfully poke his brother repeatedly in the cheek.

His brother bats his hands away and goes for a nipple cripple but Chansung darts away just in time. "Yah, I've been studying for the past twenty hours, I'm taking a break you little jerk."

They continue to wrestle, slapping each other around, and when commentators' voices start to get louder and more high-pitched they get distracted by the play for a few moments, but it's a false alarm and one of the players misses the goals entirely.

"That was a shitty shot," Wooyoung remarks, and Chansung does a double take.

Chansung's brother finally turns away from the television. "I didn't know you liked soccer," he says, looking at Wooyoung with renewed interest.

"He doesn't," Chansung says, because Wooyoung hates sport, soccer most of all, and pushes Wooyoung into his bedroom. He tries to say something about it but Wooyoung shoots him a glare that has his mouth snapping shut, and he doesn't bring it up again.

+

4. Saturday sees Chansung staying back late at school for taekwondo. Technically he's supposed to head straight to training after his last class (English with Mr Peters, who issued even more detentions after three boys presented him with a lunchbox and the food inside was arranged into the shape of a penis) but the timing means that he's really hungry, so he decides to swing by the shop right in front of their school just beforehand. He joins the queue of hungry boys and wills the line to go faster, because if he's too late then his coach will get mad, and Khun might have already agreed to be someone else's sparring partner.

At that thought he starts bouncing on the spot, glancing at his watch every few seconds as he edges closer to his goal. The guy in front of him distracts him, though, when he drops his soccer ball, and Chansung instinctively kicks his leg out, stopping it from rolling too far. He picks it up and passes it to the other guy, who grins.

"Thank you," the guys says, and bows.

Chansung is struck by the strangely familiar tininess of his eyes but he forces himself to nod in acknowledgement. He's about to follow it up with a 'you're welcome' but at that very moment someone leaves the shop and the whole line shuffles forward again, and the guy turns back around.

Chansung tries not to watch him too obviously. He's nothing special as he stares open-mouthed at the shop, probably deciding what to buy, but there's something about him, something that's causing the tiniest of niggles in the back of Chansung's brain, something stuck between being late and what he's going to eat and how pretty the sky is looking for this time of year.

They're one person closer again when the guy gets out his wallet to count his money, and that's when Chansung sees it—right there, tucked into the small plastic ID pocket, is Wooyoung's drawing.

It's not the same one Chansung saw in his sketchbook but it's definitely Wooyoung's work, Chansung would know it anywhere and finally, the soccer ball and the small eyes click, and then the guy bends over to pick up some dropped coins and that clicks too.

Chansung spends the rest of his time in line in a daze, sure of nothing and uncertain of everything, and when it's his turn to order he leaves without buying anything, following Junho back into the school's premises and watching him enter the building where Wooyoung is having his detention.

+

3. Chansung goes to school the next Monday armed with information about the guy.

He started off by asking Khun, because Khun knows about everyone. The guy's name is Junho, and apparently he's actually a good soccer player, unlike Taec who is just on the team for the credit. Unfortunately that was all Khun had known, but further internet research (some people would call it stalking, but Chansung knows he's just being thorough) had upturned the fact that he's in Chansung and Wooyoung's year, he's friends with Doojoon, and while he excels at sports he also injures himself a lot.

Now all Chansung needs is an opportunity to talk to Wooyoung about it. His every attempt so far has been thwarted, but now that they're having lunch Chansung can see his chance. He gets out his own home-packed meal, unpacking the containers carefully as Wooyoung creates a new art piece out of the cafeteria food. Chansung opens his mouth, just about to broach the subject, when Junho himself appears at their table. He seems angry and Chansung immediately looks at Wooyoung, who has suddenly tensed and closed right off, his face an unwelcoming mask.

"Careful," Wooyoung says, trying to sound cool but Chansung knows better, "you almost ruined it."

Chansung looks back to Junho, keeping his spoon in his mouth so he isn't so obvious about watching them, and Junho's glaring, almost snarling at Wooyoung.

Their conversation goes downhill from there.

Junho is brutally honest and Wooyoung is Wooyoung and Chansung hates all of this, hates the horrible tension and the mean words that make even his banana taste like ash, hates that he can't help because this is none of his business and Wooyoung will kill him if he ever finds out how much Chansung knows.

It finally ends, Junho storming off and Wooyoung deflating faster than any balloon, and Chansung wants to make it better but he doesn't know how. He waves after Junho and immediately feels stupid. "Your friend?" he asks carefully.

He doesn't know what he was expecting, but it's not for Wooyoung to look quite so upset when he answers, "Not anymore."

+

2. Chansung thinks there's something wrong when Wooyoung calls him on Saturday night (calls! Him! Voluntarily! Chansung hasn't even heard from him telephonically since his first afternoon of detention, and Wooyoung's been sullen and withdrawn since the thing with Junho) and asks if he's going to the soccer match.

Chansung turns down the volume of his Guy Sebastian playlist to make sure he's not imagining things. "What?"

"The game tomorrow," Wooyoung repeats and he sounds strangely normal, even though he usually gets annoyed when he has to repeat himself. "Are you going?"

"I... Khun was going to cheer Taec on, I was going to go with him."

"So the short answer is yes."

"...Yes."

"I'll meet you there."

He hangs up. Chansung stares at his phone.

+

1b. Chansung knows there's something wrong when he actually sees Wooyoung at the soccer match. After several hours of tossing and turning and trying to puzzle out his friend's latest behaviour, Chansung had put it down to Wooyoung trying to play a stupid prank on him—although Wooyoung is hardly the resident joker, he likes messing with people and Chansung has never really been an exception. However, when he and Khun arrive try to look for people they know, Wooyoung is right there, leaning on the fence in front of the bleachers.

"That's Wooyoung," Chansung says dully. He shakes his head, sure it's a mirage, but Wooyoung doesn't go anywhere.

"Wooyoung?" Khun says. He looks as Chansung points and grins, immediately moving over to him, manoeuvring his way through the crowd of families and friends and apologising the whole way. Chansung follows, still trying to process the idea of Wooyoung being at a sporting event.

"Hi, I'm Khun," Khun says, and bows. Wooyoung nods and looks back towards the pitch. Khun looks at Chansung. Chansung shrugs.

Thankfully it's not awkward for long because then the game starts, the players jogging out onto the pitch and taking their places. Chansung spots Junho and swaps between watching Wooyoung and watching Junho but neither of them do anything out of the ordinary. Junho is bouncing up and down in his spot, doing a couple of last-minute stretches, gaping again as he watches the captains of both teams pose for a photo, and Wooyoung is still casually leaning and observing.

It isn't until hours later, during extra time, that Wooyoung does anything out of the ordinary. The score is even at two-all and the other team has already had one aborted shot at goal and it's so tense that Chansung has forgotten his mission and allowed himself to get caught up in the excitement. Then he looks at Wooyoung and Wooyoung's lips are pressed into a thin line, which is nothing out of the ordinary in itself, but combined with his fingers clenching tightly onto the fence and toe of his right boot digging into gravel and his eyes that never leave Junho's sweating figure, it's something.

And then someone from Junho's team, Jung Jihoon, Chansung thinks, passes the ball to Junho, and Junho runs, and he runs, and he's fast, and everyone on the other team is somehow too far away to reach him, and he bears down on the goal, an unstoppable force, and—

Everything seems to go quiet. Junho's foot rears back, then snaps forward. The ball arcs towards the goals. And it goes in. And the siren sounds. And the game's over.

There's a roar from their side of the bleachers, screaming and yelling and jumping and clapping, and just before Chansung allows himself to get caught up in the hysteria he glances at Wooyoung one last time.

His eyes are trained on the pitch, but he's grinning and Chansung looks over to see Junho, standing amongst his celebrating teammates, holding up a piece of paper. The size and shape of it are similar to the picture from his wallet, which means—it's Wooyoung's drawing.

And for Wooyoung, Chansung knows, that's everything.

+

1a. When the team comes out of the locker room half an hour later they're still ecstatic, buoyed by their win, and Taec heads straight for Khun. Chansung tries to watch what Junho does but then Taec wraps his other arm around Chansung's shoulders and pulls him close, crushing both him and Khun to his chest.

"Let's celebrate!" Taec yells, and everyone cheers, and when Taec finally lets Chansung go Wooyoung and Junho are long gone. Taec turns to Khun, his eyes glittering. "I can finally have beer," he says, wiping fake tears, and Khun laughs and pushes him. He takes the opportunity to lead the way out of bleachers and everyone starts to follow him but Chansung still can't see Wooyoung.

"I'm going to find Wooyoung," he tells Khun, who squeezes Chansung's shoulder and smiles.

"Fighting! I'll wait here for you."

Chansung nods before heading in the direction of the locker room, thinking he might still be with Junho.

+

0. Chansung probably shouldn't be surprised by what he sees, but it seems there's a difference between suspecting that something might be going on between his best friend and another boy, and seeing it right in front of his eyes—Wooyoung pressed up against the lockers, Junho's hands in his hair and his tongue in his mouth. Wooyoung's own hands are gripping Junho's hips tightly and when they slip down to Junho's ass and someone moans, Chansung decides he's seen more than enough.

He hurries back to Khun, who greets him with a smile that Chansung finds incredibly comforting. "Hey, did you find him?"

Chansung wonders how much to say but in the end it's not his secret to tell, no matter how much he knows he can trust Khun, so he settles on, "I... think he found himself."

Khun tilts his head. "Huh?"

"Nothing, he's in good hands." For a moment he's struck by the literal implications of that statement but Khun's still looking confused so he shakes his head and grabs Khun's hand, dragging him towards the exit. "Let's just go."

Chansung spends most of the next hour wondering and worrying but when Wooyoung and Junho finally meet up with them at the restaurant Wooyoung's actually smiling, smiling like he means it, smiling like he's happy, smiling like his life is good, and in the end that's more than enough for Chansung.

+

+ Drop It Like It's Hot [2PM]

2011-11-19T14:49:40Z

Title: Drop It Like It's Hot
Rating: PG
Characters: Taec + everyone else. OT7-era.
Word Count: ~1900
Notes: Inspiration. Brofic, sort-of almost not quite Taecjay and maybe possibly not quite bordering on cracky.
Summary: "You know we have to do it," he says quietly, trying to overcome days' worth of immaturity, trying to ride the fine line between pragmatism and condescension. "Can we just try to have fun with it?"

+

Taec is directly in the middle of trying to avoid Jay when he steps out of his room and quite literally runs into him in the hall.

"Uh," says Jay, taking a step back, pulling his cap down lower over his eyes. Taec notes vaguely that it's the blue one that says homeboy, the one Taec got him last year in Boston (because that's apparently where all the homeboys are). It's a bit big but Jay wears it anyway, seeming to like the way it fits over the tips of his ears. So no-one can see when they turn red, maybe. "Sup."

"Hey," Taec responds awkwardly. He has absolutely no idea what to do with his hands. He puts them in his pockets and then on his hips and then crosses them, but aside from that, neither of them budge.

The silence wears on, and Taec wonders if he should try to say anything else, if there is anything else to say, but then, like he has an inbuilt radar, Junsu emerges from the kitchen behind Jay and barges past him to slap Taec on the arm.

"Yah," Junsu says, "yah yah yah." More slapping.

"What?" Taec says, finally looking at him, and Jay takes the opportunity to escape, latching onto Junho's shoulders and jumping on him, ignoring his feeble protests and forcing him down the hallway.

"I need one of my drawers back," Junsu says loudly, holding up a giant package of newly-delivered clothing. "I've run out of room."

Taec stares, but Junsu is looking at him very seriously from under his fringe. "I only have two," Taec says slowly.

"I know." And then Junsu brightens. "Or I could have the bottom bunk!"

Taec manages to squeeze all of his underwear into one drawer just before Minjae hustles them out of the dorm.

+

"You guys should talk about this," Khun says, shifting around, trying to get comfortable in the tiny amount of space he has been allotted between Taec and the door. He angles his body sideways and jabs his knee into the driver's seat in the process. Minjae grunts in pain but everyone ignores him. "You need to figure it out. It's making it hard on the rest of us."

"I'm trying," Taec points out. He motions to Jay sitting right up front, even though he could have had Chansung's spot on Taec's other side. "He's the one who keeps avoiding me."

"Yeah and pointing fingers is really mature."

Khun shakes his head and Taec would start making fun of how motherly Khun's being if he wasn't being scolded like a misbehaving pet. "We're dealing with it, okay?"

"You're obviously not." Khun frowns, and for a moment it seems like he's going to say something more, but then his lips press together tightly and Taec turns to see Jay watching them, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Taec rolls his eyes and stuffs his earphones in, leaning on Chansung's shoulder and closing his eyes.

+

Taec is sitting directly opposite Wooyoung, so when the radio host asks about any tensions in the group he immediately knows that Wooyoung is going to say something. Wooyoung seems to relish any opportunity to make his fellow members feel uncomfortable under the guise of good entertainment and Taec is used to watching for the certain evil gleam his eyes take on whenever he's planning something.

"Ohhh," Wooyoung says, like he's really thinking about it, and from the corner of his eye Taec can see Jay staring into space and completely unaware of what's about to happen. If they were actually on speaking terms he'd kick him under the table or something to try and warn him, but as it is—

"Usually Taec-hyung and Jaebum-hyung are close, but right now they're fighting."

Of course, the host pounces on this piece of information, immediately asking a million questions. Taec stares at Wooyoung, silently wondering why, but Wooyoung just stares back, kind of menacingly (or the best he can manage, since he face is particularly swollen today) and then Taec remembers—he ate the last piece of chicken at lunch, which he was specifically told to save for Wooyoung.

Taec shivers.

+

Jay's version of damage control leaves a lot to be desired in that it pretty much consists of making animal noises into the microphone, so Taec eventually mans up and covers for them, inventing something about Jay stealing his underwear (believable, yet not too incriminating). Khun obviously feels sorry for him too, and contributes a story about his own underwear that distracts the host long enough for them all to move on.

Wooyoung proceeds to look particularly satisfied for the rest of the interview, and Taec really wants to deal with him personally, but as soon as they finish thanking almost everybody in the entire radio station they're shipped off to a studio for a photoshoot and Taec is convinced that Wooyoung is part ninja—not only does he somehow manage to sit as far away from Taec as possible in the van, but as soon as they arrive he disappears and Taec barely sees him through the whole shoot.

It doesn't help that Wooyoung seems to have enlisted the help of the other members, either. Taec knows for a fact that Khun was lying when he said Wooyoung was dead earlier, and right now he's pretty sure Junho's harbouring him in the disabled toilets and only pretending he's blocking the door because he's tired. (Taec thinks that as celebrities, they should really be much better at lying.)

"It's true, though," Junho insists, stretching exaggeratedly, yawning, "today's been really long."

Taec advances forward, arms extended outwards in a choking motion, and Junho drops all pretences, crossing his arms defensively but not moving aside.

"You're not even really angry at Wooyoungie, so I don't know why you're taking it out on him."

"Because—"

"We all know something's happening with you and Jay-hyung, and we all know that's why you're annoyed, so you should stop bringing us into it."

Taec deflates a little. Of course Junho is right. He spends far too much time contemplating philosophies and taking photos of pigeons not to be. (Briefly, Taec wonders when the younger members started disrespecting him so much. Probably when he got very drunk a couple of years ago and spent all night alternating between throwing up and warbling girl group songs.)

Taec turns and walks away without further argument, but when he 'accidentally' shoves Wooyoung over in their 'playful' group shot later, no-one says a word.

+

Taec generally likes photoshoots because their erratic nature allows for quite a lot of nap time, but this time it's that very quality that works against him when, straight afterwards, they have to go to dance practice and he can barely keep his eyes open.

What makes it worse is that he's practicing for a special stage with Jay and Chansung. Jay, who is being stupidly awkward with him, and Chansung, who is incredibly emotionally sensitive but who is also probably the worst mediator in history (Taec knows this from experiences he'd rather not rehash).

They're going through the choreography for the fifth time when Taec screws up on the same move, and Jay, frustrated, requests a bathroom break. Taec takes the opportunity to gulp down an entire bottle of water. Chansung appears next to him and offers him another, towelling off his own hair.

"Thanks," Taec says, and rips the lid off the new bottle before he dumps it over his head.

Chansung just watches him, leaning against the wall, and Taec can see the expression on his face in their reflection of the mirror. He looks worried in a way that maknaes never should, and Taec feels guilty.

"It's fine," he says. Chansung nods, although he's very obviously unconvinced. "It is. This is just temporary, we'll fix it Chansung-ah."

"I feel like my parents are fighting," Chansung says wryly. "And before you ask, no, you're not the father."

Taec glares at him before springing forwards and pretending to slap him, which turns into a wrestling match that goes on for a while but stops almost guiltily as soon as Jay returns.

+

They push through, and Taec finally gets it, and pretty soon Chansung is dismissed, but then their acrobatics instructor tells Taec and Jay to stay behind and practice their new move for the ending of 10 Points.

The new move they were given the other day. The move that freaked Jay out. The move that they tried to think wasn't all that bad until they actually tried it and Taec accidentally grabbed mini-Jay. The move that has caused all of this tension between them.

Taec gulps and looks at Jay. Jay stares at the ground. Taec decides that something must be done.

"You know we have to do it," he says quietly, trying to overcome days' worth of immaturity, trying to ride the fine line between pragmatism and condescension. "Can we just try to have fun with it?"

Jay lets out a laugh that sounds on its way to hysterical. "Fun? You're my homie, Taec, but there are lines." He frowns and rests back against the wall, looking so troubled Taec can't help but feel sorry for him.

He leans next to him, bending a knee to press his foot to the wall, considering. "Well," he says slowly, "pretend I'm a girl, if you think it'll help."

"You? A girl?" Jay tilts his head, looks at him for a few moments, and bursts out laughing—mocking, this time, and Taec wonders at the differences in opinion between his two bandmates. "Seriously, thanks for the thought, but you are way too huge for anyone to imagine you're a chick."

"Sooyoung's pretty tall. Or Sulli. Or Seohyun. Or—"

"Yeah," he interrupts, "but they do not have giant arms, abs, and a dick."

"As far as you know," Taec shoots back, and Jay punches him in the shoulder. Then something seems to occur to him because he pulls away suddenly, looking really suspicious, and Taec can just see the word 'conspiracy' flashing through his mind.

"Why have you been so calm about this, anyway?"

Taec blinks. "Um. Because I don't care?"

Jay narrows his eyes, stepping closer to flick Taec's ear. "What?"

"One," Taec says clearly, pressing himself flat to the wall, because Jay clearly doesn't realize how close they are night now, "we have no choice. Jinyoung-hyung seems to feel the need to torture us and we kind of have to bear it. Two, the fans'll dig it, and three, it's you." He shrugs, trying to explain his feelings in a way that won't freak Jay out. "You're my brother, and I love you. This isn't an issue for me."

Jay deflates. "Why do you always have to be so fucking practical?"

Taec grins. "We all complement each other." He places his hands on Jay's shoulders and slowly pushes him backwards. Jay finally notices their proximity and yanks himself away and Taec indicates to the middle of the studio. "Shall we?"

Jay pauses, then sighs. "Fine. But if I feel anything nasty—"

"I'll drop you straight away," Taec promises.

Jay seems more satisfied with his answer than Taec would have thought.

+

+ Fix You [1/2] [2PM]

2011-10-25T17:57:00Z

Title: Fix You
Rating: R
Characters: Chansung/Nichkhun
Word Count: ~14,500
Notes 1: For onedaybb. It's late and I'm horrible. Two people who aren't horrible are augmenti (thank you so much for being such an amazing mod) and biases (whose passionate tongue-related feelings improved this ten-fold). Thank you also to the anon whose request helped me start writing this in the first place.
Notes 2: This… is a hospital AU. I do not work in hospital. I did a lot of research but I probably have some glaring errors. Please don't hold that against me?
Summary: Right from when he gets up far too early, through his hurried shower and breakfast and drive to the hospital, through to his pre-rounds and everything in between, all he can he think about is Khun.

+

Chansung has only been a surgical intern for two months when his resident suddenly leaves. He and the four other interns assigned to Doctor Park are left without a proper mentor for a week before being told they're being split up and allocated to other residents—Chansung and Junho to Doctor Seo, Jia and Min to Doctor Wang and Kwon to Doctor Lee—and although they never really got the chance to know each other properly, Chansung's going to miss them. He was just starting to enjoy their company, and even though he knows he'll still see them around it won't be the same. Not only that, but all of the other groups will have established their own dynamic by now, so he has no idea how they'll react to two new people disrupting their process, not to mention creating competition for surgeries.

Still, Chansung is optimistic by nature, and he's always been good at adapting so he can't help but feel excited by the future, and when they all meet for a goodbye celebration at a tented street stall near the hospital he ends up shouting one too many bottles of soju. Junho falls asleep in the remnants of the dried squid and Min and Jia sway drunkenly together to the Beyoncé impression Kwon is doing for the table of nurses nearby. Kwon has hardly had anything to drink but he doesn't need stimulants to lower his inhibitions and even the owner ahjumma stops to watch, shaking her head with a smile as Kwon moves directly into Justin Bieber.

When Junho groans beside him, almost in objection to Kwon's high note, Chansung realises it's getting late and he should probably take him home. He stands up and hooks Junho's arm over his shoulder, Kwon noticing them leaving and rushing over to hug them goodbye. Chansung waves to Jia and Min, and with one last look at his friends he lifts up the flap of the tent and ducks underneath but Junho drags his feet and makes him stumble. His grip loosens and he feels himself dropping Junho—and then suddenly he's straightening up and they're both still standing and Junho suddenly feels a lot lighter.

"Are you okay?" someone says, their hands clutching at Junho's shoulder, helping to support his weight.

Chansung looks up and into the bright eyes of Junho's saviour and nods. "I am now."

"I have that effect on people," the man says, smiling, and Chansung grins back.

"I guess I'm lucky you came along, then." He shifts Junho's weight and the man steps closer, his arm curling around Junho's waist as they help him over to a wall and prop him against it. The man looks and sounds exotic but also kind of familiar and at first Chansung thinks he might be a celebrity, but then he catches the faint scent of antiseptic and it clicks. "You're an intern at the hospital, right? Me too, I'm Hwang Chansung."

"Yeah, I think I've seen you around." The guy's mouth and eyes curve into a smile and he makes sure Junho is steady before he holds out a hand, overly polite with his other hand to his elbow. Chansung manages to hold Junho up with his hip long enough to return the gesture. "I'm Nichkhun."

"Thanks for your help, you saved Junho's life tonight."

"It's in the job description, isn't it?" Chansung laughs and Nichkhun grins wider. "Are you alright with him now?"

"Yeah, no problem, I'm used to it. Thanks again."

At Chansung's reassurance Nichkhun inclines his head and waves a little before stepping into the tent. Chansung watches him go but then Junho starts moaning and pressing his face further into the brick wall, and Chansung has to pull him away and get him home before he gets too many scratches.

+

Chansung doesn't sleep well at all that night, and although he'd like to blame Junho's heavy breathing from next to him in the bed, he knows it's really because he's so nervous about how things will go under a new resident.

Doctor Park had been pretty casual in his teaching style, preferring more of a you-observe-and-ask-questions-if-you-wanna method, and even though Chansung had liked him enough he generally appreciates a much firmer guiding hand. He wonders what Doctor Seo will be like and all of the unknowns ensure that he only gets a few hours of real rest. The only thing that makes him feel better the next morning is the knowledge that he can't be feeling as bad as Junho, because Junho is hung over.

He staggers into the kitchenette where Chansung is making coffee and barely makes it to the table before collapsing all over it, groaning.

"Have some coffee," Chansung says.

"Urg," Junho says.

"You have ten minutes if you want to be ready in time for pre-rounds," Chansung says.

"Urg," Junho says again, before slowly and painfully levering himself back up, snatching Chansung's coffee from him and lurching back the way he came.

+

Chansung loses track of Junho somewhere between the locker room and the surgical wing, but Junho usually likes to go off and do his own thing anyway. An initial glimpse at the hospital records doesn't uncover any fascinating surgeries that have come in overnight, but Chansung makes an effort to visit some of the patients anyway. He has just finished with Nam Minhee in Room 1717, who needs a splenectomy, when he checks the time and swears because somehow it's 5.07am and he's running late for rounds. He hurries to the locker room, trying to remember anything about the patients he just saw, but his frustration with himself for acting so irresponsibly takes over and he berates himself the whole way instead.

When he pushes into the locker room all six of its occupants look up, and Chansung immediately starts bowing in apology. "Doctor Seo, I'm so sorry I'm late."

"You got here early to try and find the good cases, right?" Doctor Seo leans back against the lockers, watching Chansung closely through his black frames. His tone is neutral. Chansung isn't sure whether that's good or bad.

"I was just…" he trails off, glancing at Junho, but Junho is concentrating on tying his shoelaces. Which are already done up.

Okay. Definitely bad, then. Chansung's stomach clenches even tighter.

Doctor Seo nods and steps closer to Chansung. "I understand you want to do well, maybe even impress me a little, but you have to prioritise. We're waiting on you, and so are our patients, and if anything happened it would be your fault. You have human lives resting in your hands, Doctor Hwang. Please remember that." He sounds disappointed, and to Chansung that feels worse than any punishment dealt in anger.

He bows again, as low as he can. "I'm really sorry," he says, trying to inject all of his sincerity into it, holding his pose for a few more seconds before straightening up.

"This is difficult for all of us, Doctor Hwang. None of us are familiar with each other—my guys don't know your abilities and you don't know theirs and that's dangerous." As he speaks, Minjae gestures to the four vaguely familiar interns sitting quietly on the bench behind him, before pointing at Junho and then finally at Chansung. Chansung finds his gaze drawn to the tip of his finger, watching as it sweeps from side to side, before Doctor Seo finally turns to face his original interns and Chansung forces himself to concentrate. "So for the next few days, Doctors Lee and Hwang will be shadowing you guys and you'll report back to me on their status. Is that clear?"

Chansung looks at Junho again. He's staring at Doctor Seo like he wants to cry. Chansung tries hard to make sure he doesn't look the same way.

"Doctor Ok, you're with Doctor Hwang today," Chansung looks over to see the big guy with big features waggling his fingers in a wave, "and Doctor Jang you're assigned to Doctor Lee." The smaller guy next to Taec nods, and Doctor Seo claps. "Okay everyone, we're rounding in one minute."

The others jump up and finish their preparations and Chansung hurries over to Junho. "What the hell was that?" he hisses.

"I don't know but it sucks. Doctor Jung is doing a coronary artery bypass graft tomorrow and I really wanted to scrub in." Junho slams his locker door shut and follows Doctor Jang out, and Chansung is just about to do the same when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

He turns and blinks, surprised by who he sees.

"So," Nichkhun says, "your friend survived, then."

"Barely. You're under Doctor Seo?"

Nichkhun smiles. "Guess we were destined to work together, huh?"

Chansung smiles back, opening his mouth to answer, but the door opens again and Doctor Ok sticks his head inside.

"Khunnie," he says, frowning, "I hope you're not trying to steal my man. He's mine. Play nice and maybe I'll let you have a turn." He enters to grab Chansung's arm. "Come on, intern's intern. Come and learn from the master."

Chansung can only wave helplessly as Doctor Ok drags him away.

+

By the time Chansung has rotated through all of Doctor Seo's interns he has a pretty good idea of the playing filed. They're interesting guys, and they're weird and sometimes do stupid things but they seem to have each others' backs and they're good at what they do.

They're thankfully pretty accepting of Chansung and Junho, and they're all on first-name basis very quickly, although Chansung definitely bonds the fastest with Taecyeon. Taec can look beefy and intimidating but he's actually a big dork, and there's no one Chansung likes better than a dork. In no time they're joking around but still managing to be productive, without even endangering any lives. During one of their more serious conversations Chansung asks him what he's thinking of specializing in, but Taec says he's undecided and wants to try everything before making a decision.

Junsu, on the other hand, seems pretty taken with plastics (along with singing loudly at every given opportunity), and tells Chansung, hints of a country accent slipping into his speech, that plastic surgery is like making music—"creating something beautiful and making someone feel better about themselves". Chansung is still unsure of his logic but he's not one to argue with someone's personal philosophy.

In Wooyoung Chansung finds a clever and quick-witted peer. He's a bit cold at the beginning of their shift, but once Chansung helps him with a troublesome intubation he starts warming up. Junho doesn't like him much, but Chansung doesn't put much stock in it because Wooyoung has interest in cardiology as well and Junho is very competitive.

Khun is last, and the person Chansung is most curious about. Apparently he's from Thailand and has a stupidly complicated name so while Chansung is instructed to call him Khun, he introduces himself to his patients as Doctor Nichkhun or, when dealing with children, Doctor Buck (Chansung thinks it's safest not to ask why). It seems to work because women and children love him, and Chansung isn't at all surprised when Khun tells him he's considering gynecology or pediatrics. Khun is the best supervisor too, he's kind and helpful and makes sure Chansung gets the chance to prove his worth, even though it means Khun misses out on some of the practical stuff himself.

Chansung is grateful to him but really he's just glad when it's all over. The past four days have been some of the most intense in his life, and when Khun had dismissed him an hour ago the first thing he'd done was find an on-call room and crawl into bed.

He's hovering on the edge of sleep, right on the precipice of a long-awaited and well-deserved nap, when a frantic series of knocks startles him completely, utterly, hopelessly awake.

He squeezes his eyes shut. Maybe if he waits long enough whoever it is will go away and he'll finally be able to rest.

The knocking gets progressively louder, and it takes only a few more seconds for Chansung's conscientiousness to win out. If it was an emergency with one of his patients then he would have been paged but it might be a general problem, a closest-doctor-available type scenario, so he drags himself out of the cot and even manages to hurry to the door, unlocking it as he mentally prepares himself for a dying, blood-soaked patient—but that is not who darts past Chansung to hide behind the open door.

Who it is is a rather frightened, disheveled and lipstick-smeared Khun.

Chansung raises his eyebrows. Khun furrows his own and looks so pleadingly at Chansung that he thinks some of the children in Peds could probably learn from him.

"Please help me!" Khun whispers furiously, and Chansung is about to ask him what with when there is the sudden loud clacking of heels that gets closer very quickly and then Nurse Song appears in the doorway, face flushed and eyes wild. She cranes her neck to see into the room and Chansung finds himself standing taller to block her view.

"Doctor Hwang," she says, distracted but still managing to incline her head politely, "have you seen Doctor Nichkhun this evening?"

Chansung pretends to think. "I don't think so," he says eventually, watching with some amusement as her face falls. She bows quickly to him, no longer interested in his company, and continues on her quest. Chansung watches her turn the corner and waits until the echoes of her heels have faded completely before stepping back inside and swinging the door shut.

Khun smiles sheepishly at him. "Thanks, I owe you."

Chansung reaches out to straighten his collar. "So Doctor Seo's only going to hear good things about me then?"

Khun's grin drops and he tilts his head, eying Chansung closely. "He was going to anyway," Khun says seriously and Chansung frowns, but before he can clarify anything there's another interruption, more knocking on the door before it's pushed open.

"Chansung," Junho says, glancing up from a chart, "Doctor Seo wants… oh, hey Khun. I didn't realise…" He frowns, obviously taking in Khun 's mussed hair and Chansung's hands near his neck before looking back to Chansung.

It takes Chansung a few seconds to interpret his confused stare and when he does he realises Junho probably has completely the wrong idea and he can't snatch his hands away fast enough. "No, it's not… we're not, um. The nurse! Khun needed help and I… I helped."

"I see." Junho shuts his chart and starts to back out. "Sorry to interrupt."

"No it's not— We weren't— Khun!" Chansung turns to him for help but he's just laughing, and he pushes off the wall to clap Chansung on the back.

"Come on, if Doctor Seo is looking for us then we should hurry." He slips around Junho and out of the room and Chansung watches him go before turning back to Junho.

"We weren't though."

"Uh huh." Junho looks Chansung up and down before following Khun.

"We weren't!"

+

"So I hear you've been spending some quality time with our Khunnie," Taec says, slamming his metal food tray down next to Chansung's and grinning widely at him.

It's the first day he and Junho have actually been able to go back to be being proper interns, and Doctor Seo had either been impressed by Chansung or wanted to torture him, because he assigned Chansung to the Chief of Surgery's important neuro case. Chansung has barely had time to breathe let alone eat or drink in hours, and he wasn't expecting the others to join him in the cafeteria for lunch—he thought they would have eaten ages ago. "You told him?" he says, looking to Junho who shrugs.

"What, I had to know what kind of person he is, I can't let my Chansungie fraternise with a bad guy." He leans over to spoon his unwanted soup into an empty section on Chansung's tray before sitting opposite, Wooyoung joining him.

"Fraternise, huh?" Taec says, wiggling his eyebrows greasily, and Wooyoung rolls his eyes and flicks some bean sprouts at him.

"Stop it, you'll scare the children."

"Children?" Junho protests but he's interrupted by Junsu who arrives, sees there's only four chairs at the table, pushes Wooyoung's tray aside and sits directly on his lap.

"There's other chairs over there," Wooyoung whines, but Junsu glares at him.

"Yah, are you going to make your hyung get up and get one?" And he leans over the table and starts eating, forcing Wooyoung to figure out how to work around him.

Chansung exchanges a glance with Junho and wonders if it's always like this with them. All of his time with these guys has been one-on-one, and being exposed to them in such a big group is sudden and a lot to take in. When he and Junho were in the other group lunches were a much more restrained affair, and even though Jia and Kwon often used to share their unfinished food with Min and Chansung, it was never this chaotic. Chansung thinks that once he gets used to it he's going to enjoy the dynamic of this new group a whole lot more.

He can't help but wonder what Khun's personality brings to the mix. He doesn't seem all that manic, but maybe it takes him time to relax around new people. Chansung himself isn't exactly acting normally—if he was more familiar with these guys he would be eating the tofu Wooyoung has left on his tray and ribbing Junsu for spilling his food on his scrubs.

"Where's Khun?" he asks, unable to help himself, and Taecyeon's eyes immediately light up with mischief. Chansung should have known it was exactly the wrong thing to say.

"Why do you wanna know?" Taecyeon asks, leaning in, but there's a bang and the tabletop bounces as he jerks backwards, face twisted in pain. He drops his chopsticks and clutches his leg. "Ow! Wooyoungie!"

Wooyoung looks up, kimchi half in his mouth, eyes glazed over. "Huh?"

"Don't kick me!" In retaliation Taecyeon darts forward to steal his rice, Wooyoung whines and blames Junsu for the kick, and Junsu continues to eat, feigning innocence and slipping straight into Wooyoung's chair when Wooyoung gets up and starts to pull on Taecyeon's ears.

Chansung can only sit and watch, intent on eating as much as he can to fill him up for the rest of his shift and grateful that they're no longer talking about Khun.

+

The ER isn't Chansung's favourite place. It's busy and hectic and crowded, there are too many demanding patients and not enough staff, and the interns rarely get assigned anything more than sutures. Still, he understands that the skills he can learn and hone in such a high-pressure environment are essential, particularly since he's usually the type of person who values time to think about how he'll respond to a situation, so he readily volunteers with Khun for Doctor Lee Juseob's trauma service.

The only problem on this particular day is that there's very little trauma. When Chansung talks to a nurse she tells them there's only a minor car accident and a ladder fall, with a few others that have already been seen to, and he wonders why Doctor Seo bothered to assign both he and Khun to the department.

"It's bad to wish it was busier, right?" he says, glancing at Khun, who seems to be just as bad at hiding his disappointment as Chansung is.

"Very," Khun agrees, looking at him too, before wrapping dry fingers around Chansung's wrist. "Come on."

The ladder guy is still sorting out his paperwork so Khun pulls him over to the car crash victims—a woman and a little girl occupying the same gurney. Chansung checks their notes. They were brought in via ambulance ten minutes ago after being involved in a traffic collision. The impact was on the driver's side, the child had been sitting on the passenger's side, both victims had been wearing seatbelts, the mother has a suspected left leg fracture, no obvious injuries on the girl other than some lacerations on her arms. Chansung hands the notes to Khun and crouches down in front of the girl.

"Hello," he says, smiling at her, "my name's Chansung. What's yours?"

"Hong Misun," she says, not taking her eyes off her mother. "What's wrong with my mommy?"

Chansung stands back up. "How about we move to our own bed and let Doctor Buck check on her? Then we'll find out."

She nods and he holds out his hand, helping her off the gurney and around to another one next to it, lifting her up. Khun immediately moves in and begins checking Mrs. Hong as Chansung examines Misun.

"No tenderness or swelling anywhere other than the lacerations," Chansung mutters to himself, "no bumps to the head… Hey Misunnie, did you hit your head? Does it hurt?" He takes out his penlight and checks her eyes but her pupils are responsive and she doesn't react when he then runs his fingertips over her scalp.

"I'm fine," she says, craning her neck to watch Khun. "How's my mommy?"

"She's hurt her leg but she's going to be okay," Khun says gently, turning to smile reassuringly at Misun, who nods and relaxes a little in Chansung's hands. Even Chansung feels better at his words and he can't help admiring Khun's bedside manner all over again.

Shaking his head, he does a few more quick tests on Misun. She'll need sutures (of course) but other than that she seems fine. He turns to Mrs. Hong, figuring she'll want an update. "Mrs. Hong, your daughter has some deep cuts but I'll sew them up and she'll be fine, so there's no need to worry."

Mrs. Hong nods, grimacing as Khun runs his hands down her leg.

"Definitely a bad break. I'm gonna need to get some x-rays to check it out properly," Khun reports. He finishes his exam and pulls up the sides of the bed, securing Mrs. Hong. "You gonna be okay here?"

"I'll be fine. If you need any help though…" he says, and Khun grins.

"Good try, but this one's mine." Chansung gives him his best pout but he ignores it and turns to Misun. "Okay, I'm gonna take your mom so we can fix her, but I promise I'll let you know how she's going, okay?"

Misun nods. "Bye mommy," she says.

Mrs. Hong flails out an arm, and Khun shifts her bed closer to Misun, who reaches out and clutches her hand. They don't say anything but then Misun smiles and Mrs. Hong smiles back and lets go, Khun nodding and pushing her gurney towards the elevators.

Chansung watches him go, thinking about how much he hates doing sutures, before grabbing some supplies and a stool, making himself comfortable in front of Misun.

"Okay, how are you with needles? Do you hate them?" He pulls a face as he organises his implements but she just shakes her head and holds out her arm. "Brave girl, I'm impressed."

"My friend Jinho doesn't like needles."

"Oh yeah?" he says, and trying to keep her talking, but she just watches calmly as he anesthetises and cleans out the wound, and he can't help but admire her composure.

She would probably do well working in the ER.

"Yeah. He fainted when we had them at school. Everyone laughed but it was really mean so I made them stop."

Chansung grins and shakes his head, not doubting her for a moment, before concentrating back on her wound and carefully beginning to sew it up.

"That doctor with my mommy is good, right?" she asks after a while, and Chansung nods.

"He is. Plus, he'll be working with an even better one to fix her, so you don't have to worry."

"Why is his name Doctor Buck? That's silly."

"He's a silly guy." Chansung pauses. "Don't tell him I said that."

"Do you like him?" she asks.

Chansung grins at her bluntness and moves on to the second, bigger wound on her arm. "We really don't know each other very well but I like him okay."

"I like someone," she says softly, much shier now and ducking her head, and Chansung doesn't think he's ever been so charmed by another human being in his life.

"Really? Is it Jinho?" he teases, and her mouth drops open.

"How did you know?"

Chansung looks around before leaning in conspiratorially. "I studied hearts in school. I know a lot about them."

"Really?" She tilts her head, thoughtful. "Then why do I like Jinho? He gets scared a lot and he doesn't wash his hair."

"I don't know, Misunnie," Chansung says softly. "I'm not sure if that's something anyone will ever figure out."

+

"Doctor Hwang," Doctor Lee Juseob says as he finally appears and sweeps through the ER, passing Chansung just as he finishes with Misun's third and last set of stitches, "I need you for a moment."

Chansung curbs his grin, trying not to seem too interested. Maybe Doctor Lee needs him for some important trauma case and was just testing his abilities with the basics here first. Maybe he'll get a really good surgery. Maybe he'll even get to hold a clamp.

He hurriedly packs up his materials and pats Misun on the head. "I'll be back, okay? Just stay here."

She nods and he moves over to Doctor Lee at the nurses' station. "Doctor Lee?"

"Where have you been assigned today?"

"Just here, with you, sir." Chansung stands up tall and tries to look dependable.

"Good!" he says cheerfully, signing a form with a flourish. "In that case, today you are the sole adult responsible for Hong Misun."

Chansung frowns. He's… what? "I'm sorry sir?"

"While Mrs. Hong is having surgery on her broken leg someone needs to look after her daughter. Her husband is in the army and her sister can't get here until later so that leaves you."

"I'm babysitting," he says distantly, trying process the fact that he went through all those years of study and spent all of that money just to be assigned to a job an unqualified fifteen year old could do. "Isn't there someone else who could do that? What about the hospital's daycare program?"

Doctor Lee closes a folder and hands it to a nurse, stepping behind the counter to check the computer. "I need someone with a medical background to look after her. Now why might that be?"

"To torture an intern?" Chansung can't stop himself from saying, although Doctor Lee just laughs.

"Yes, but what medical reason?"

"Patients involved in car accidents have be kept under observation because they may not start showing symptoms straight away and pain can sometimes set in twenty-four to forty-eight hours later," Chansung says automatically. He frowns as he processes what he's actually saying and realises Doctor Lee has a point, and then he immediately feels bad for being so selfish—Misun could be injured and he's busy thinking about surgeries. "I'm on it," he tells Doctor Lee, who nods and pats him on the shoulder before disappearing into Trauma Room One. Chansung turns and heads back over to Misun.

"Chansung-oppa," she says as he approaches, looking like she's in pain, and Chansung hurries his steps, "I need to go to the toilet."

Chansung sighs.

+

"Chansung-oppa."

"Hmm."

"Chansung-oppa."

"Misunnie."

"Oppa oppa oppa oppa oppa oppa!"

Chansung finally breaks and turns to her, finding her sitting calmly on the floor behind him, body parts of the plastic human body replica he'd given her to keep her occupied spread across the floor. "Misunnie. I'm trying to study," he says, trying to be patient, but it's kind of hard when he only just found a spare office to work in after forty five minutes of searching whilst Misun regaled him with the complete discography of her favourite idol band. Chansung had been looking forward to finally completing a few more of his designated research hours but now it's very clear that that won't be happening.

"I know but…" She shakes her head. "It's okay."

"No," Chansung says gently, because she suddenly sounds vulnerable in a way that no child should, "say it. You can talk to me about anything."

She takes a deep breath. "My mommy's gonna be okay, right?"

Chansung frowns. So that's what she's worried about. He puts down his pen and lowers himself to the floor, scooting over to sit opposite her. "Of course she is. She'll have a sore leg for a while, but she'll be okay."

"When Jinho hurt his arm he got metal in it. Is my mommy getting metal in her leg?" Misun very carefully isn't looking at him, instead playing with one of the lungs near her foot, but Chansung hears the wobble in her voice.

"Yes." She finally looks up at him, horrified, and he has to hold in a grin. "But that's what will help her. Her bone is broken right now and to make sure we fix her properly we need to use some metal. But it's very clean and very safe, I promise."

"So she'll be able to take me to Everland again?"

He suspects that 'Everland' is scared-young-girl code for 'everything', but goes with it anyway. "Not straight away," he admits. "She'll have to wear a cast and a big boot, and she'll have to use crutches to walk properly, but once she's better I bet she'll take you to Everland as many times as you want." He picks up the plastic heart and grins at her. "Cross my heart."

She laughs and seems to relax a little, fixing her attention back on the body puzzle, and Chansung sits with her and helps her put it together for a while, explaining the names and functions of each piece she asks about and testing her on the easy ones.

Their calm is broken by Khun, who barges inside looking incredibly frazzled. He spots Chansung and Misun on the floor and ventures further into the room.

"Buck-oppa!" Misun greets him. "How is my mommy?"

"She's great Misunnie, I just have to talk to Chansung-oppa for a minute, okay?"

Chansung grins. "Never thought I'd hear you call me 'oppa'." He levers himself up and brushes off his pants. "What's up?"

"Where can I find chocopies? Doctor San says he never operates without eating one first and Mrs. Hong's surgery is scheduled in half an hour and Chansung," he curls his warm fingers around Chansung's arm and yanks him closer, his eyes huge and pleading, "you have to help me."

Chansung considers messing with him but then decides against it—he's already stressed enough. "You're in luck, I think I saw some in the vending machine in the attendings' lounge earlier."

Khun's entire body relaxes, and he looks like he's about to cry with relief. "Thank you. So much." He yanks Chansung forward into a giant hug and Chansung laughs in surprise but hugs him back.

"You should get back to it, then."

Khun steps back and looks longingly at the plastic pieces. "What you're doing looks like much more fun."

"You miss us," Chansung teases, "that's so cute."

He's a bit unprepared for the serious look Khun gives him and wonders if he's done something wrong, but after a moment Khun smiles widely and says, "Of course! Who wouldn't miss little Misunnie?" He stoops down to start tickling her and she squeals with laughter, flailing her limbs out and thrashing them around, her giggles high-pitched and carefree and such a relief to hear that Chansung can't help but laugh with her.

+

At lunchtime Chansung is still on Misun-duty but by that point he can't bring himself to care. They get food together, Misun delighted by the idea of eating doctor food, and Chansung directs her to the table Khun is saving for them.

"Hey Misun-ah," Khun says brightly, sitting up in his chair as they approach him. He pulls out the seat next to him and pats it, taking her tray for her. "Sit next to Oppa."

"Hello Buck-oppa," she says primly, and Chansung exchanges smitten grins with Khun as she has to boost herself up onto the chair. She pauses and cocks her head before asking curiously, "Who's that?" She gestures to Taec, who's slumped across from Khun with his right cheek pressed into the table, lab coat draped over himself like a blanket as he snores quietly.

"That's Taecyeon-oppa. He just operated for a very long time so we're letting him rest," Khun says.

Misun nods and turns her attention to her food and Chansung sits on her other side. He's just thinking of a good coded way to ask Khun how he's going with Misun's mother when Junho arrives, sliding neatly into the seat opposite Misun but barely sparing her a glance.

He looks victorious and smug and Chansung cocks an eyebrow and waits for him to spill. "While you are babysitting, guess who is going to scrub in on a double bypass with Doctor Jung," Junho announces proudly, picking up his chopsticks with grandeur and waving them around his face. "I'll give you a hint: it starts with 'm' and ends with 'e'."

"Huh," Chansung says, making sure to sound impressed. "Congratulations. I wonder if he chose you because he'd like to watch himself operate," he teases, and Junho's face immediately darkens.

"We look nothing alike!" he blurts out, slamming down his drink down on the table with a bang. "Stop saying that!"

Chansung glances at Taec and is just about to say something to Junho when Misun pipes up.

"Excuse me," she says, and Junho blinks at her, as if just realising she's there, "Taecyeon-oppa just operated for a very long time so we should let him rest."

Junho blinks some more before turning back to Chansung. "Why is the babysittee at our table?"

"She's part of our group now, aren't you Misun-ah?" Chansung says, wrapping his free arm around her shoulders. She nods happily, mouth bulging, before she frowns and swallows loudly, glaring at her food tray.

"Everything okay?" Khun asks, concerned, and Misun shakes her head.

"I don't like onions." She pouts up at him and Chansung watches as Khun visibly melts, smiling gently at their small charge and patting her head.

"Really? Well I'll help you, okay?"

Misun beams and Khun starts the meticulous process of picking out every piece of onion and putting it on Chansung's tray.

"What's wrong with Taecyeonnie-hyung?" Wooyoung asks as he joins them, dropping his tray down and sitting on the other side of Junho.

"He just finished a twelve hour surgery," Khun says, brows furrowing. "He's probably hungry, too. Should we wake him up?"

Chansung hadn't thought of that. "Taec-hyung." He kicks him under the table but he doesn't get a response, so he picks up some kimchi with his chopsticks and leans forward to wave them under Taec's nose. "Hyung."

Taec's nose twitches and his mouth opens, and Chansung angles the chopsticks into Taec's mouth. He chews a few times before letting out another snore.

"He can sleep eat," Wooyoung says flatly.

Chansung shrugs—like that's a big deal, he can do heaps of things in his sleep that are much more impressive than eating.

"How can he even sleep with this ruckus," Junho mutters petulantly, but no one seems to be in the mood to indulge him.

Khun finishes with Misun's food and pushes it towards her encouragingly before saying, "Taec can sleep anywhere. He fell asleep in surgery once, I had to nudge him awake with a clamp."

Chansung wonders how safe it really is for Ok Taecyeon to be practicing medicine. "Pretend you didn't hear that," he tells Misun, who nods and seems quite happy to continue eating.

"Yah," Junsu says loudly as he drags over a chair, wedging himself at the end of the table before spotting Misun and adjusting his dialect, "did you guys hear about the hospital's fiftieth anniversary this weekend? The Chief says that everyone has to come up with ideas for the fundraiser."

"Like what?" Chansung asks, unable to resist and carefully not looking at Junho. "A lookalike competition?"

A choking sound comes from Junho's direction. Everyone continues to ignore him.

"Doctor Seo says there's going to be a talent show," Wooyoung says.

Junsu's eyes light up and he immediately pulls his iPod out of his lab coat and starts scrolling through it.

"It would be good to do something for the kids," Khun says, glancing at Chansung over Misun's head, and Chansung can't help but smile at him because that's just Khun.

"I like painting," Misun says helpfully.

"Painting, huh?" Chansung says. "I think we could arrange something, right guys?"

He looks around the table and Khun nods thoughtfully but he's otherwise met with silence as Wooyoung is still eating, Junsu is still scrolling and Junho is still sulking.

"You guys know I'm not actually sleeping, right?" Taec says suddenly, surprising them all as he levers his upper body up with great effort, grabbing the extra onions off Chansung and shoving them in his mouth.

It takes only a moment for everyone to go back to what they were doing, Junho muttering something about dyeing his hair red.

+

The rest of the week passes in a blur of paperwork and preparations and before Chansung knows it it's Sunday, the day of the fundraiser. It's turned into somewhat of a family festival, with food and games booths set up in the hospital's biggest courtyard, with the doctors that aren't participating in the talent show running everything. Taec isn't in the show (he says he saves his talent for the OR, which is obvious when he runs the face-painting booth and everyone comes away as a crudely-drawn cat) and neither are Chansung and Khun, but Junsu does an amazing job with a trot song that slowly morphs into a hip hop rendition of Three Bears, and Junho and Wooyoung form a unit to dance to an idol group medley that everyone seems to love.

Chansung likes to think, though, that the kids will love his and Khun's mural wall the most. They spent a long time gathering materials and harassing the Chief for permission to paint a wall, and although Chansung is pretty much exhausted already he can't wait to see the kids go crazy with the paint. He's particularly looking forward to seeing Misun, because although her mom's almost ready to go home, Chansung has noticed from his daily visits that Misun is getting very fed up with hospitals.

He can't hate the fact that this whole process has helped him get closer to Khun, either. Khun is smart and kind and funny, and although he's not above using his looks to get his own way (Chansung has been witness to many an eyelash-batting and pouting session as they've been organising everything), he has a good heart and that's what's most important.

It's been fun being around him, fun spending time getting to know him and his likes (samgyupsal) and dislikes (liars) and habits (once he feels comfortable with you, he gets pretty touchy-feely). In fact, Chansung has to wonder if he hasn't been enjoying himself too much. Khun is not someone who should be making him feel so warm inside. Khun is his peer as well as his competition, his hyung and his friend. Khun is an ally, and that's too important to lose in an environment like a hospital.

Khun is too important.

So Chansung concentrates very hard on his work. He works harder, he logs more hours in skills labs, he ensures everything is perfect for their mural, and now they're finally here.

"So, you ready Chansungie?" Khun asks, joining Chansung in scrutinising their wall space. He reaches up to run his fingers along Chansung's shoulders before slinging his arm around them, and Chansung ignores how nice it feels in favour of grinning at him.

"Let's do it."

Khun smiles back and hands him an apron, and Chansung pretends not to notice when Khun puts his head through the arm hole by accident, instead turning to greet the first few interested kids as they straggle over.

+

Eventually the kids all get tired and bored and cranky so they're herded back inside, back to their beds and treatments and operations, but Chansung is thankful that today, even if it was only for a little while, they got to do something different, something that wasn't a constant reminder of their health. For the whole three hours Misun had worn the biggest smile Chansung has ever seen, wide and toothy and so so perfect. It hadn't even disappeared when her aunt had dragged her away—in fact, it had only got wider as she high-fived Khun and then made Chansung lean down so she could kiss him on the cheek.

Chansung is pretty sure he's going to carry that smile with him until he dies.

"Yah, Chansung-ah," Khun says, and Chansung turns around just for Khun to reach out a paint-smeared finger and draw a stripe down his nose. Chansung blinks for a moment, surprised, before he tries to look down at the damage, eyes crossing, and Khun starts laughing at him.

Chansung pouts. "What was that for?"

Khun shrugs. "Your face was looking way too clean."

"Okay then. Just let me ask you something," Chansung says, advancing on him slowly, because he just happens to have a full tray of red paint in his hands and even though they're supposed to be cleaning up he's not going to let it go to waste. "You like red, right?"

Khun's eyes widen and dart to the tray, and he starts to back away but he has nowhere to go, walking directly into the wall behind him. Chansung has him right where he wants him and moves even closer so he can't get away, their bodies almost pressed together

"What about the wall," Khun blurts, "what if you get red on the ocean?" He jerks his head back, indicating the seascape painted behind him, but it's a terrible last-ditch effort at escape and they both know it.

Chansung smiles sweetly at him. "We'll just make it the Red Sea." And he gently pours his tray over Khun's head, careful to angle it away from his eyes and mouth.

Khun's body locks in place as the cold paint drips down his neck before he looks up, mouth obviously trying to curl into a smile, eyes going wide before narrowing. "You have no idea what you've started," he says lowly.

"It's impossible to be scared of someone who's known as 'Doctor Buck'," Chansung answers.

"Just as well I have no intention of scaring you then," Khun says softly, and Chansung is about to ask what the he means when Khun suddenly darts forward, his paint-covered hands closing around Chansung's face and gripping at his hair to pull him right onto his lips.

Chansung only spends a moment wondering whether to be shocked before he decides that that's just wasting time and grabs at Khun's elbows, pulling him even closer, opening his mouth and running his tongue along Khun's bottom lip. Khun doesn't seem to be surprised by Chansung's response either, and he lets out a little happy hum that Chansung really wouldn't mind hearing again—and when he presses his torso to Khun's, running his hands up Khun's sides to brush his fingers over his jaw, he does.

+

>

+ Fix You [2/2] [2PM]

2011-10-25T17:55:08Z

<

+

It's not that Chansung is having a gay freakout (he had one of those years ago, back when he made out with his opponent in his first serious kendo competition at the age of eleven). It's not that he regrets what he did with Khun (how could he, when Khun is so amazing with his tongue). It hadn't lasted all that long, and things had been a little awkward afterwards, but Chansung has no problem with the act itself. It's just that it was kind of… unexpected. Not once did he pick up on any signs from Khun's end, so either he's not as good at reading people as he'd like to think he is or Khun is really good at hiding what he's feeling. It's been a few hours now and even though he hasn't seen Khun since it's been all he can think about.

"Hey man," Taec says, joining him at the nurse's station. He grins briefly at Nurse Bae before handing her a folder and leaning against the bench. "I saw the mural, those crabs that are the same size as the whale are stellar."

"Shut up, sick children drew those so they're perfect," Chansung says absently. He forces himself to concentrate and finishes reading over his chart before signing it and leaning over to file it.

"You okay?" Taec asks, and Chansung looks up to see him watching, dark eyes narrowed. "Tell Taecyeonnie-hyung all your problems."

Chansung looks around but no one they know is near and Nurse Bae is chatting with someone a few metres away, so he pulls Taec closer and says quietly, "It's Khun."

"Ah, the aftermath of the paint kiss," Taec says knowingly, and Chansung gapes.

"You know?"

"Of course, I know everything." Taec stands up tall, trying to be mysterious, but he fails miserably when his eyes crinkle up at the corners and his teeth poke out in a large grin. "Actually, Kwon knows everything, I just know lots about Khun. I'm his housemate, he tells me things. Also, he talks to his sisters on the phone and I eavesdrop."

Chansung shakes his head. "Hyung," he says, disapproving, but he can't help but be glad that he doesn't have to explain everything. "What should I do now?"

"You and Khun are as stupid as each other. You know he's in the same state as you? And you also know that nothing more is going to happen until you stop talking to other people about it and actually talk to each other."

He says it like the prospect isn't utterly terrifying, like the possibility of rejection isn't a concern, and like the outcome doesn't determine Chansung's potential for a happy and fulfilled future.

Taec rolls his eyes at Chansung's silence. "God, would you stop stressing? You like each other, you have a good time together, neither of you are attached, neither of you is an authority figure, just have fun with it, take it as it comes."

Chansung wishes it really was that simple, but he knows from experience that as soon as you swap out two different genders for two of the same you immediately lose a lot of that ease, not to mention the fact that they work together and he doesn't know what Khun wants and—

"Seriously Chansungie, you don't have to get married." He punches Chansung's shoulder. "Not that you could anyway, right, because it's illegal."

Chansung sighs. "Go away now."

"Going!" Taecyeon salutes cheerfully, and with a last wink at Nurse Bae he whisks away towards the on call rooms.

Chansung rolls his eyes when Nurse Bae follows after him less than a minute later.

+

The next day is just as bad. Right from when he gets up far too early, through his hurried shower and breakfast and drive to the hospital, through to his pre-rounds and everything in between, all he can he think about is Khun. No matter how much he tries to concentrate, his mind keeps wandering to the memory of Khun's hands on him, his lips, his warm breath and even warmer tongue and…

Rounds that morning are a disaster. Doctor Seo asks him the most basic question about a bowel resection and he's just about to answer but then Khun smiles at something and he suddenly can't remember anything and is left stuttering and clueless, which Doctor Seo doesn't react well to at all. While the others all get to scrub in on surgeries he gets put on scut as punishment for his mistake, and the concept of running labs for hours on end is enough to make Chansung want to bang his head against a wall.

The feeling only intensifies when Khun pulls him into a linen closet right after rounds. He keeps the door open, but Chansung still feels himself tense up.

"So we should talk," Khun says, fidgeting a little and looking just as uncomfortable as Chansung feels.

"Yeah," Chansung agrees, hoping he doesn't mean that in a way that means 'let's talk right at this moment or else'.

"I'm busy now, obviously," Khun says, and Chansung lets out his breath in a rush (of relief or in disappointment, he's not sure—maybe both?), but then Khun continues, "so how about lunch?"

Chansung nods. "Okay," he says, and Khun offers a small smile before turning and walking away.

+

At first Chansung is happy for the extra few hours to gather his wits but their lunch break comes way too soon, and he is still way too nervous to have a proper conversation.

When they meet up in the cafeteria it's by accident, Khun joining the line for the vending machine just behind him, and Chansung is so awkward as he pretends to be just fine, pretends like he's not still constantly thinking about Khun, pretends like he doesn't want to just push him down and start sucking on his neck right in front of every doctor here.

Once they've got their food they both look over to the table where the others are sitting, Junho and Junsu laughing loudly as Taec and Wooyoung perform a bad parody of some vaguely familiar idol group choreography, before looking at each other and wordlessly heading back inside to find somewhere else.

+

They end up in the stairwell that no one ever uses, in the East Wing where Peds used to be before the whole department got an upgrade. It's quiet, probably the only quiet place in the hospital, but it's like a ghost town and Chansung had crowded closer to Khun as they walked down the empty corridor, feeling very creeped out.

Khun sits on the top step and Chansung sits beside him, their food left forgotten behind them, and for a few moments they sit in silence.

Chansung starts to feel suffocated, under incredible pressure to say the right thing, but for once he doesn't know what that is. Talk to him, Taec had said, but he doesn't really know where to begin.

Chansung clears his throat, finally daring to look at Khun.

Khun looks back.

They stay like that for a while.

And then something in Khun's eyes softens and he suddenly shifts closer, pressing their thighs together. Chansung lets him know it's okay by taking his hand, unable to stop himself from nervously playing with Khun's fingers.

"I'm usually not like this," Khun says. He seems to be waiting for something so Chansung nods. "I'm passive aggressive. I don't talk about things if I think it'll cause an issue and it takes me a while to process things and I wouldn't confront you about this, except we kissed. And I liked it. And I like you."

Khun stops. Chansung blinks.

"I like you too," he says.

"Okay," Khun says.

And then Chansung finds himself sliding his fingers to Khun's wrist, up the inside of his arm, up his hard bicep and over the sleeve of his scrubs, across his shoulder and to his neck, where his hand finally stops and his fingertips brush the hair at Khun's nape. Khun's eyes are so trusting as he angles his face toward Chansung's and Chansung leans in and presses his mouth to Khun's, gentle at first, and it isn't quite right because his nose is squishing Khun's but then Khun tilts his head further and opens his mouth and it's perfect. Chansung strokes Khun's neck and Khun's closest arm moves to run up Chansung's back, fingers tracing his vertebrae as his tongue traces Chansung's lips. Chansung gets steadily warmer, tinglier, and it isn't until Khun pulls away slightly that he remembers his need to breathe.

"Talking is overrated anyway," Khun says unsteadily, and Chansung can see how much he's trying to force himself to be articulate, can see it in his dark eyes and reddened ears and panting mouth, before he gives up completely and pulls Chansung towards him again.

+

"So you guys never came back at lunch yesterday, what happened?" Taec asks the next morning, dropping down next to Chansung on the bench in the locker room. Chansung wrinkles his nose as the distinct stench of vomit invades his nostrils and pushes him away.

"What happened to you, you're gross," he complains and Taec looks down at the large stain on his scrubs and shrugs.

"I was on call last night, didn't have time to change until now." He lifts his scrub top off, muscles bulging and sliding against his skin with the action. Chansung tries not to admire his physique too obviously. "Soooooo what happened?"

"Nothing," Chansung says. He stands up and slides on his coat, securing his pens in the breast pocket. "We just made out a little." He finally looks back at Taec, who has an eyebrow raised very high, and he can't help the smile from spreading across his face. "If 'a little' actually translates to 'a lot'."

Taec grins back "Sexcellent," he crows, clapping Chansung on the arm. "Go for it buddy, get that hot Thai tail."

"Thai tail?" Chansung repeats, amused, and Taec shrugs helplessly.

"I just finished a thirty hour shift, it's the best I got."

"Chansung, we're rounding," Junho says, poking his head around the corner, and Chansung nods.

"Get some rest okay," he says to Taec, because other man looks like he now needs about thirty hours of sleep, and Chansung has learned that he always pretends to be much more energetic than he actually is. "Or I won't tell you anything else. Ever."

Taec immediately falls back to sprawl against the bench, faking loud, long snores.

+

Rounding for Chansung is thankfully a one hundred percent improvement on the day before, and he even answers a question that no one else knows about the procedure involved in completing a craniotomy. Junho pulls a face and pretends not to be jealous as Doctor Seo tells Chansung he did a good job, but Khun winks at Chansung and then lets their hands brush together as they move on to the next patient and that definitely makes up for Junho's bad sportsmanship.

His day only improves when they reach the last room on their rotation and he walks in to see Mrs. Hong sitting on the bed, beaming at him. Chansung supposes it's probably not very nice to feel happy that someone he likes is spending so much time in hospital, but honestly it's so nice to see a familiar face that he can't bring himself to care.

"Doctor Nichkhun," Doctor Seo says, and Khun smiles widely at Mrs. Hong before reeling off her post-operative stats. Chansung listens with one ear, wondering where Misun is.

When Khun finishes Doctor Seo hands Chansung the chart. "Doctor Hwang, you'll be covering post-op patients today," Doctor Seo says. Chansung feels his brief spate of pleasure fizzle at the thought of all the monitoring he has to do now, wondering when he'll ever get a break, and feeling only marginally better when Khun smiles at him one last time before Doctor's Seo herds him out.

Trying not to sigh, Chansung turns back to Mrs. Hong and opens her chart. "You're recovering well," he says, scanning its contents. "How's the pain?"

"I feel like I'm dying every time my painkillers wear off," she says bluntly, and she sounds so much like Misun that Chansung can't help laughing.

"I'm told that's normal," he tells her, moving around to pull down the covers, inspecting the plaster cast. "I haven't seen Misun in a while."

"She's had school. My sister will be bringing her in later though, you should come by again."

"Oh," he says, disappointed. He hasn't been able to see her since the fundraiser and he's been finding himself missing her. "I'm not sure I'll make it, I'm gonna be pretty busy. How is she? How are her injuries?"

"She's fine. Thank you so much, you did an excellent job with the stitches."

Chansung bows his head in thanks.

"I've scheduled her for an eye test though," she continues. "She's had a few headaches, and it's about that time. Everyone in my family has glasses, she doesn't stand a chance."

"Glasses are pretty cool these days anyway," Chansung says, finishing up. "Okay, you're alright for now. Do you know when you get to go home?"

"Doctor San said he'd come with a physiotherapist and speak to me today," she tells him, settling under the blanket. "Do try and visit again later, okay?"

Chansung nods. "Okay. Right now, I have to go. You just relax and get better."

She nods, already nuzzling back into her pillow, and Chansung lets her be.

+

After that it's a blur of complaining patients, patients in pain and patients with post-op complications and patients with questions that Chansung can't answer. He's frustrated and annoyed by the time lunch comes around, especially since it doesn't match up with Khun's—or anyone's, for that matter—and he eats alone in the locker room.

When he finally earns an afternoon break (technically he's just waiting for some results but he'll take what he can get) he's more than ready to see Khun and he sneaks away to page him. He still hasn't heard anything back in three minutes so he decides to go looking for him and is just passing the on-call rooms on the first floor when someone grabs his arm, yanks him inside one of them, and turns the lock.

"What—" he starts but then turns to see Khun and he's such a welcome sight that he can't stop himself from grinning. "You should check your pager," he says, "I've been trying to contact you, it might be broken—"

But before he can continue Khun grabs his face, thumbs stroking over his cheekbones as he curls his fingers behind his ears, and then they're pressed together. Khun's palms are warm and dry on his cheeks, gentle pressure that draws him even closer so he can feel Khun's hot breath against his lips but Khun's not doing anything, just standing there watching Chansung, so Chansung takes the initiative and then they're there—lips together, mouths opening, tongues sliding, and Chansung has never wanted anything as badly in his life, except maybe his residency.

"Want you so much," Khun mutters and Chansung can't tell if it's those reciprocating words or the way Khun is licking down his throat that makes him shiver but Khun seems delighted by his reaction, grinning widely and running his hand down Chansung's front to settle on the drawstring of his scrub pants, twining it around his fingers.

"Shit," Chansung hisses, trying not to seem so needy but it's impossible when Khun is using his other hand to draw his fingernails—trimmed neatly, perfect for surgical gloves—up Chansung's spine and then down again, gentle pressure that's spreading goosebumps across Chansung's whole body.

"I guess that means you want me too," Khun teases, but Chansung ignores him, too busy grabbing his face and hauling it back up again, immediately sucking Khun's bottom lip into his mouth and pulling on it with his teeth.

Khun grunts but the sound is drowned out suddenly by a loud beeping, and it takes Chansung a few seconds to come to the disappointing realisation that he's being paged.

"Khun," he murmurs between kisses, "I've got… I can't… My pager…" Khun growls in frustration and with one last lick to Chansung's lip he lets him go, although not completely—the hand on his drawstring remains, flitting up to let his fingernails graze lightly through the trail of hair above it, distracting Chansung completely as he unhooks his pager.

"It's not a 911, right?" Khun says hopefully, drawing him closer again, fingers dipping down into his pants this time. "You don't have to go right now, right?" No sooner has he finished saying it when his beeper sounds too, and he groans in frustration.

"I think that means we should both go. Come on." He slides Khun's hand out and lifts it up to kiss it. "We can continue this later."

Khun pouts, petulantly straightening his clothes and hair. "Why do we care so much," he complains.

"Because we're amazing doctors," Chansung says, placating as he does up his drawstring. "Come on." He links his fingers with Khun's and pulls him out of the room, almost running directly into Junho.

Junho looks them over and raises an eyebrow.

"We were only doing half of what you're thinking," Chansung tells him hastily, patting at his hair.

Junho lets out a skeptical hum.

+

Later, Khun pages Chansung as soon as his C-section is finished, and it's perfect timing because Chansung has just hit another brief lull in his day, so they organize to meet in Mrs. Hong's room. When Chansung arrives Khun is just checking her monitors. He still has his scrub cap on and Chansung is kind of weirded out by how much of a turn-on he finds it.

"Hey," he says, stepping into the room.

Both Khun and Mrs. Hong turn to smile at him, and he briefly enjoys feeling so welcome.

"You made it back," Mrs. Hong says.

"Couldn't stay away for too long. How was your surgery?" Chansung asks Khun, moving to the end of Mrs. Hong's bed. He picks up her chart and gives it a once over, pleased when Khun joins him, standing very close behind him and peering over his shoulder.

"It went well, my patient now has a nice healthy baby girl."

"That's wonderful," Mrs. Hong says warmly.

Chansung nods and replaces her chart. "Did Doctor San come and talk to you, Mrs. Hong?"

"Yes, and he's releasing me tomorrow, thank God. You boys are very handsome, but I just want to go home."

"It's okay, we understand," Khun says. He steps away, covertly trailing his fingertips over the small of Chansung's back.

Chansung elbows him in mock annoyance. "We don't, but we'll pretend we do. Is Misun still coming by?"

"Ask her yourself," Khun says, nodding to the door. Chansung turns to see Misun's aunt, Mrs. Kim, standing in the doorway, a much smaller body barely visible behind her.

"Hello," Mrs. Kim greets them, and bows.

"Hello," Chansung says, bowing back, but he's focused on Misun. She's still hiding behind her aunt, watching Chansung with big eyes, and she's way too quiet. Maybe she's sick? Chansung steps a little closer to them and squats, craning his neck to see Misun. "Misunnie, hello," he says and smiles. She doesn't smile back. He waits a moment, but nothing further happens so he stands back up and exchanges a worried look with Khun.

Mrs. Hong seems puzzled too and forces a grin, extending her arms encouragingly. "Misunnie?"

"Look Misun-ah, it's mommy," Mrs. Kim tries to prompt her, but Misun doesn't move an inch.

And then she does, her eyes rolling back as she collapses onto the floor.

+

Chansung remembers very little about what happens next but he must have done it all on autopilot because suddenly he's in the middle of scrubbing in, rubbing soap into his hands as he stands between Doctor Seo and Chief Park, watching through the window into the operating room as the surgical staff prep Misun for surgery. As Chief Park rambles about cerebral hemorrhages he has vague memories of rushing to Misun on the ground, of calling for a consult, of getting a CT and seeing a bleed on Misun's brain, of rushing her to the OR, but all he can really see is Misun's face the moment she fainted, her eyes disappearing underneath her eyelids, her body crashing to the cold linoleum—

"—Doctor Hwang?"

Chansung jerks, splashing water on his scrubs. "Sorry?"

Doctor Seo eyes him warily. "Are you going to be alright with this? If you were too close to this child then—"

"I'm fine," Chansung insists, because there is no way Misun's brain is going to be cut open without him in the room. "I can do this."

"Okay, then," Chief Park says. He finishes rinsing his hands and heads into the OR. Doctor Seo watches Chansung for another few moments before following him.

Chansung looks back to where the anesthesiologist is putting Misun under and takes a deep breath.

+

Chansung isn't alright.

Doctor Seo shaves a section of Misun's skull and cleans the area, and then Chief Park picks up the scalpel. It glints in the harsh light and as he lowers it to Misun's head Chansung feels his urge to vomit intensify, until finally it presses into skin and Chief Park traces it over her scalp.

At the sight of Misun's blood Chansung has to do some deep breathing, and when Chief Park starts drilling burr holes he thanks a God he doesn't believe in for the fact that he's only observing this time, because if he had to be the one doing the cutting he would definitely be putting her life in danger.

Everything runs smoothly for just over two hours. Chief Park is right in the middle of explaining how he's going to close up when there's suddenly a lot of blood, too much blood, and it's somehow spurting all over Chansung. Doctor Seo starts yelling and the monitor starts beeping and Chief Park starts working even faster but Chansung can't do anything, he's useless and frozen and he can't do anything. Misun's blood, the blood from Misun's brain, is all over his scrubs and suddenly all he can think about is how he'll have to buy more. He's running out of clean ones and he meant to order more weeks ago but then his resident left and then he met Khun and then Misun—

"Doctor Hwang!" Doctor Seo yells.

Chansung looks down at the hole in Misun's skull and it clicks suddenly. He grabs the suction device and pokes it into Misun's skull, pulling it out when the area's clear enough for Chief Park to actually see what he's doing. Chief Park dives back into it, and in less than a minute Misun's stable again.

Chief Park and Doctor Seo keep operating, voices strained and saying "close one". Chansung puts down the suction device, steps away, and walks out of the OR.

+

Chansung can feel himself hovering on the edge of hysteria when he finally pushes into the staff washroom, and he barely makes it inside before pressing himself to the wall, legs buckling beneath him as he slides down to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest.

All he can picture is Misun's eyes, huge and glimmering as she'd looked at Chansung and asked about her mother's safety, and all he can think about is how it's all his fault—he shouldn't have let himself get attached, shouldn't have missed her brain injury, and she didn't die, she didn't, but she could have and she still might and he's to blame for everything.

He can't tell how long he sits there, how long he's frozen in fear, staring straight ahead as Misun's blood soaks through his scrubs and into his skin, but at some point someone enters the room. At first Chansung is startled but then he lets himself relax a little because it's Khun (of course it's Khun, who else would it be) who sits down beside him.

"Chansung," Khun says, quietly, carefully, and Chansung knows he knows, can tell just from the cadence of Khun's accented speech. "Chansung," he tries again, hands slipping to Chansung's face, pulling him to face him. "Are you okay?"

"Is—" Chansung swallows and takes a deep breath before starting again, the dread steadily pooling in the pit of his stomach. "What happened?"

"She's alive," Khun tell him. "She's in a coma, but they fixed the bleed, and she's alive."

Chansung isn't sure what to feel. Relief is too much but so is regret and he's left in a strange middle ground of emotions where nothing is right and nothing feels real. He looks down because he doesn't want Khun to see him like this but all he sees is red, so much red, and suddenly his scrubs feel so heavy, like they're made of chainmail, and he has to get them off right now. He finally lets go of his knees and reaches for the hem of his top but his hands are shaking and he can't get a grip.

"Her blood, I can't," Chansung says, "I need to get it off, Khun, it's all over me, please—"

"Okay Chansung," Khun soothes, "it's okay, I'll help you."

He stands up and pulls Chansung with him, Chansung letting himself go pliable in his arms. He pulls Chansung's top off while Chansung manages to kick off his shoes, Khun then bending down to pull off his socks before reaching for the drawstring of his pants. Chansung wonders how it got like this, how something he spent so long fantasizing about became such a nightmare, but then Khun is sliding off his bottoms, everything, before taking his hands and leading him to a shower stall. He nudges Chansung inside and turns on the water and spends some time trying to find a good temperature before Chansung takes over, turning the tap to scalding and standing directly under the spray. Khun frowns but says nothing, simply moves closer to take Chansung's hand in his, starting at his fingers and carefully washing each inch of Chansung's skin.

Chansung watches as the water on the bottom of the stall is stained red, swirling around and around the plughole before disappearing forever but when he starts thinking about that as a metaphor for life he squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to concentrate on the soothing motions of Khun's hands.

Khun's hands are surgeon's hands and they are generally nothing too special when not in an operating room but right now, on Chansung's body, they are everything he needs as they scrub at his arms and chest, his fingertips occasionally pressing deeper to massage the muscle underneath. Chansung opens his eyes again and finally looks at Khun, sees the concern in his eyes, sees how his stupid pink shirt is steadily becoming more wet and see-through and Chansung instantly needs him so much he can't help it—he lurches forward into Khun, pressing their lips together.

It takes a while for Khun to respond and lets Chansung unbutton and lift off his shirt but he presses his hands to Chansung's in admonishment when they reach for his belt, and Chansung can't take his expression. He can't handle the pity, he doesn't deserve it, not when he couldn't look after his patient.

"Please hyung," he whispers, "please."

Khun stares at him for a moment but then his concern melts away and there is only need and want and Chansung welcomes Khun's roughness as he's shoved against the shower wall. "It's okay Chansungie, it's really okay," Khun repeats. His wet chest is flushed pink from the heat as it slides against Chansung's and his mouth is even hotter as it drags over Chansung's skin, starting at his ear and moving down his jawline to his throat, until he's sucking at Chansung's collarbone.

Chansung finds it in him to tug at Khun's waistband again and Khun's lips immediately leave him, not that Chansung can complain, because as soon as Khun's pants are off he connects them again and they slide together and Chansung really needs this, needs anything other than the crippling guilt and shame and the knowledge that he may have destroyed one family forever.

When Chansung finally lets himself release it's with Khun keeping him upright, his fingernails digging so deep into Khun's shoulder blades he knows he's left marks, and his tears sliding down his face to mingle with the steadily cooling shower spray.

+

Khun gets Chansung home. He's quiet and helpful, anticipating Chansung's every need, and Chansung feels even more ashamed. He's always been the youngest, but he's a man. An adult, a doctor, and he's acting worse than a child, worse than a helpless, tiny—

His mind flicks to the memory of Misun on the operating table, her small body dwarfed and draped and cut open and—

Khun stops the car and puts his hand on Chansung's knee. "Come on. I'll help you inside."

Chansung should say no. He doesn't.

Khun hovers just behind him as he walks, picking up his keys when he drops them because he still can't stop his hands from shaking, finding the right key on the second try and unlocking the door, pushing it open to guide Chansung inside. Chansung's house is small, built for one with the basic amenities, and Khun finds his bedroom easily. He sits Chansung down on the bed and pulls off his shoes, his jacket, his belt, and Chansung doesn't know if he's annoyed or grateful. Still, he lets Khun push him to the head of the bed, pull the blankets up and lay Chansung down, fluff up the pillow before he lets him rest his head.

Chansung expects Khun to leave as soon as he's tucked in but he doesn't, instead he slips off his jacket, hanging it carefully on the open door of Chansung's closet, and lifts up the covers, slipping nimbly into the bed. He squirms right up behind Chansung, wrapping his arm around Chansung's waist and tangling his feet between Chansung's. His nose presses into the back of Chansung's neck, where his breath grazes over Chansung's skin and gives him goosebumps.

Chansung feels himself relax at the sensation and wonders how Khun seems to know exactly what he needs.

It's quiet. It's too quiet, quiet enough that despite Khun's warmth Chansung's mind keep trying to remember the blood, and Chansung can't right now, he just can't, so he grabs Khun's hand between his and says, "Tell me something."

"What do you want me to say?" Khun asks quietly.

"I don't know, anything," Chansung says desperately. "Tell me more about the C-section."

"There were no complications. Everything went very smoothly. My patient's other daughter was really cute afterwards, she kept wanting to hold her little sister."

"I used to wish I had a little sister," Chansung says.

Khun snorts. "Well I have two, and I love them, but trust me, the worrying I do has turned me into an ahjusshi."

"I worried about Misun. Not in the right way, obviously." He can't stop the bitterness from creeping into his tone and Khun notices, moving even closer to press his thighs into the backs of Chansung's. "I got too attached, and I didn't do my job."

"You care. That's not a crime."

Chansung shakes his head, trying for clarity, but the image of Misun won't go away. He wonders if it ever will. "I completely missed her hemorrhage, and I was more like a family member than a doctor in that OR, I was completely pathetic."

"Chansung, we can't catch everything. She barely showed any symptoms and headaches are consistent with eyestrain. It was perfectly reasonable to attribute them to needing glasses."

"I should've been able to do something, I should've handled it, but I didn't," Chansung insists, trying to make Khun realise, trying to make him see. "You're so much better at this, you make it seem easy and you're great and I'm… I don't know if I can do this," Chansung says quietly. He doesn't know anything anymore, how can he, and how can he treat Khun like this when he deserves so much more.

Khun freezes, and Chansung can feel him take a deep breath. "Which this," he says, tone carefully neutral, "being-a-doctor-this, or us-this?"

"I don't know," Chansung whispers. "Maybe both."

There's silence for a moment, and then Khun slowly, carefully disentangles himself from Chansung. He lets go of Chansung's hands, slides his feet away, and shuffles back until Chansung feels his weight leave the bed.

"Okay," Khun says. "Just let me know when you decide."

There's the scuffing of fabric, the padding of feet, the opening and closing of a door, and Khun is gone.

Chansung suddenly feels very cold.

+

Upon first glance, Chansung isn't sure what's worse—the memory of Misun on the table or the Misun he's seeing now, who's hooked up to so many machines and has so many cables coming out of her that she looks like a tiny, deformed alien.

He had known it was going to be like this. He shouldn't be so affected by it.

He can't help it.

It's taken him all day to get here. He'd shown up for work in the morning but Doctor Seo had refused to let him further than the locker room, telling him to take the day to finish his charting he's behind on and that the other interns would cover for him. When Chansung had gone to argue he'd just pointed at him sternly before leaving, and Taec had rubbed his shoulder supportively before heading out. Junho had given him his banana and Junsu and Wooyoung had passed on a quiet 'hwaiting!' but Khun had ignored him as he followed them, and although Chansung hadn't really expected anything more it had still hurt.

And now this. This hurts even more, this horrible vision of that once beautiful, vibrant girl, now unable to breathe on her own, who might not ever wake up. It's awful and he doesn't think he can do it, doesn't think he can see it anymore, so he turns away but it's then that he runs almost directly into her mother.

She's in a wheelchair, being pushed by Mrs. Kim, and she gives Chansung a small smile when she sees him.

Chansung wonders how she can smile at a time like this, and immediately hates himself for being so morbid and judgmental.

"Hello, Doctor Hwang," she greets him softly.

Her sister bows. Chansung bows back.

"How is she doing?" Mrs. Hong asks, craning her neck to see into the room.

"I… don't know," Chansung admits. "I can't go in. I'm… I tried but…"

Mrs. Hong nods slowly. She looks up at her sister. "Unnie, can I talk to Doctor Hwang for a moment?"

She nods and parks Mrs. Hong next to Chansung, in front of the window to Misun's room, before patting her shoulder and heading inside.

Mrs. Hong turns to Chansung. "I hope you're not blaming yourself for what happened. It's not your fault."

Chansung stays quiet because if he doesn't, he's not sure what he'll say.

"Do you believe in heaven, Doctor Hwang?" Mrs. Hong asks.

"I'm Buddhist," Chansung says simply, and she nods in understanding.

"Well I do. We all do." They watch for a moment as Mrs. Kim reaches down and brushes Misun's hair off her forehead. "And I believe in her. I believe that she'll get through this, because she loves life and she's the strongest child I know." She pauses and turns to look up at Chansung and he forces himself to hold her gaze. "You should believe too."

"I believe in her," Chansung says quietly, and he does, because that's easy. He believes in Misun like he believes in his family, in his best friend from high school, and… in Khun.

"Then you should believe in yourself."

To that, Chansung says nothing. There's more quiet, and it's just starting to become uncomfortable when Mrs. Hong smacks her palm to the armrest of the wheelchair and says, "Aigoo, I'm suddenly so thirsty! Unnie, let's go and get something to drink," she calls. Mrs. Kim comes out to grab her chair and they're gone before Chansung realises what they're doing.

He looks back into the room. Misun looks so lonely in there by herself.

With that, Chansung's mind is made up and he's inside her room before he can stop himself.

+

Mrs. Hong comes back half an hour later and Chansung makes sure to thank her, grasping her hand and bowing low. She pats him affectionately before shooing him away, and when Chansung leaves the room Doctor Seo is waiting outside for him.

"Doctor Seo," Chansung says, bowing again, trying not to sound too nervous, "is everything okay?"

"That's what I'm here to ask you," he says, crossing his arms.

Chansung pauses, wondering how much to say. How much should he tell this man, this man who can decide his fate, who could have him kicked him out of the program with no questions asked. How much is too much in a situation like this?

He looks up at the older man, and something suddenly tells him that the only thing he can do is tell the truth. Sincerity and honesty are important, at least to Chansung, and if he doesn't want to fall apart completely then he needs to stay true to himself, no matter what the consequences are.

"I'm not like the others," he starts slowly. "I didn't start with talent. I didn't go to a good school. I'm not a natural. I worked hard to get here, I worked so hard, and I thought that once I got here, once I started doing this thing that I love, I thought it would get easier. I thought I was prepared, I thought I could do it, I thought… But I'm not. I can't. Nothing could have prepared me for this, for how hard it is, and now I'm completely lost and confused and I have no idea what do." He forces himself to stop, because he feels like he could just keep talking until he ends up a blubbering mess on the floor, and risks a glance up at the ever-critical gaze of his boss.

"Chansung-ah," Doctor Seo says, and at first Chansung is surprised to hear his name said so casually, but then Doctor Seo continues, his tone uncompromising. "I understand why you feel that way but those are the realities of the job. If you don't like them then you shouldn't be here, because not only are you putting lives at risk but you're wasting time, money and important resources." Chansung's heart sinks. He doesn't know what he was hoping for, but it wasn't something so harsh, and now he realises what an idiot he was being. He nods and slowly backs away, but then Doctor Seo's hand falls heavily on his shoulder and Chansung looks up to see a soft, almost affectionate look on his face. "However," he continues, "you are here. Yesterday wasn't a good day, it challenged everything you thought you knew, but you're here today. And there's a reason for that. It's impossible to diagnose everything, and getting attached isn't a bad thing if it helps save lives. You just have to know when to draw the line, and that's something that only comes with time. Why don't you try staying long enough to let that happen?" He squeezes Chansung's shoulder before pulling away and striding down the corridor, lab coat billowing out behind him.

Chansung watches him until he's out of sight before letting himself look back at Misun.

+

Chansung is changing in the locker room, scrub top shed and a little cold in only his wifebeater, one shoe on and one shoe off, when he gets the 911.

He doesn't even bother to re-dress before bolting to Misun's room.

+

It's chaos in Misun's room. Mrs. Hong is crying and struggling in her wheelchair and Mrs. Kim is holding her down and screaming for help. Nurse Jung is there and trying to get to Misun but he can't manoeuvre past her panicking family and it's up to Chansung to shove past them and rush to Misun's side.

Her eyes are bulging and she's gasping and choking and Chansung has never been more relieved in his life, because she's awake, she's awake, and if she's fighting the tube then that means she can breathe on her own and that's the best possible outcome anyone could have hoped for. He wants to scream and sob with happiness, but instead he opts for ripping off the tape holding Misun's intubation tube in place and then carefully pulling out the tube itself. Misun starts coughing immediately, giant hacking coughs that are almost scary coming from someone of her small size, and Chansung reaches for the oxygen mask but someone beats him to it and he looks up to see Khun on the other side of the bed.

It takes Khun less than a second to assess the situation and he simultaneously presses the mask to Misun's mouth and whips the stethoscope from his neck to pass it to Chansung, who takes it to check for Misun's breath sounds.

Which are good, strong and even and… fine. She's… fine. Misun has woken up, and she's fine, and she's a little weak but she's fine and Chansung suddenly feels so giddy he could burst as he realises—this is why he's still here. This is why he does this, because people are amazing and the human body is amazing and science is amazing and he can help people, really help them, he can make a difference, and that's something he could never give up, ever.

The giant grin on Khun's face says he feels the same way and as Chansung allows himself to look at him, to really process the beauty of this moment, that's when the adrenaline wears off a bit and reality filters in and—Mrs. Hong is still crying, Mrs. Kim is still yelling, they're both still petrified and someone should probably put them out of their misery.

Chansung is quite happy for that person to be him.

+

Chansung is still too high on life to notice when he should leave the Hongs to be happy as a family without doctors crowding them but Khun isn't, and once they're completely certain that Misun is stable he leads Chansung out by the hand. The others are waiting when they get outside but even then Khun doesn't let go, he keeps their fingers interlocked, and Chansung is grateful because he thinks he might just float away.

In fact, Chansung is grateful for everything Khun does. Chansung is just grateful for Khun full-stop, not that Khun would know it because Chansung is an idiot—and still, Khun helps him. Chansung thinks it's about time that Khun knew.

And so, right as Khun is in the middle of telling Wooyoung what happened, Chansung grabs him by the lapels of his lab coat and pulls him into a kiss.

It's just as nice as he remembers, better even, once Khun gets over his shock and starts kissing him back, although it's impossible to ignore the others completely as Junsu makes gagging noises and Taec says proudly, "He's taking my advice, you know."

Chansung rolls his eyes and pulls away from Khun, who is staring at him with stunned eyes and swollen lips, and turns to Junho to say, "Now we're going to go and do exactly what you were thinking," before dragging Khun to nearest on-call room.

+

They get seventeen minutes together before Khun's pager goes off. They're not exactly done, but by the time they are Chansung can only be grateful that their profession has provided them with the skills to respond quickly in any high-pressure situation.

+

+ Super Junbros [2PM]

2011-10-14T10:52:25Z

Title: Super Junbros
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Junho, Junsu
Word Count: ~830
Notes: So I had a conversation with scooter_rulez on Twitter that started with Taec and ended like this:

Her: junho will end up in a scandal soon...he'll probably punch someone over something trivial
Me: or he'll don a cape and mask and become a superhero for animals
Her: no junsu will save the pandas!!!
Me: they can be a crime fighting duo. maybe that's why junho eventually attacks, he's pissed because he has to be the sidekick

…and then there was this. Written quickly, warnings for being short and silly.

+

Junho and Junsu are trying to figure out the best way to get into the facility when the injustice of it all suddenly hits Junho like a paw to the face.

The moon has disappeared behind the heavy cloud but the facility floodlights spill through the gaps in the imposing wire fence, so when he turns to Junsu, who seems to have become distracted from their mission and is cooing a melody into his phone, he can see more than well enough to punch him on the arm.

"Yah!" Junsu yelps, turning to him, eyes widening in the eyeholes of the mask covering the top half of his face. "What are you doing?"

"Why do I have to be the sidekick?" Junho complains, because so far, there have been exactly zero benefits. Junsu has called all the shots, taken the best costume for himself, bossed Junho around a lot, and made him organise everything by himself—even making him cancel an important hair appointment—all the while talking about what a great hyung he is.

"Because I'm your hyung," Junsu says predictably, not hesitating for a second. His head pops above the shrubbery they're hiding behind for a moment but Junho pulls him back down. "Plus, it was my idea, I'm the one who likes pandas."

"Everyone knows I love animals," Junho points out.

"You like animals in general, pandas are my animal," he says, with a distinct air of finality. "Now hurry up, I've finished my part."

"What part?" Junho sputters. Junho's the one who got them the information, the tools, the transport, the contacts, and the instructions from the internet advising them of the way to create the catchiest crime-fighting name (not that they could agree on one). "I did everything!"

"Yah, would you just hurry up? Imagine how many pandas are getting experimented on while you're arguing with me! Isn't saving them most important?"

Junho's mouth snaps shut. Now that's a point he can't argue. With a sigh, he roots around in his backpack and pulls out the wire-cutters, unable to curb his grin.

He feels kind of powerful right now, he's not gonna lie.

Snipping them in the air, he moves closer to the fence, but Junsu frowns and grabs his sleeve.

"Wait."

He rolls his eyes, but does. Junsu reaches into his pocket and pulls out an old toothpick, stained red at one end from ddukbokki, before throwing it at the fence. There's a sudden crackling of electricity and the fence is lanced with streaks of blue as the tiny stick of wood gets zapped, briefly setting on fire before landing on the ground, a smoking husk of its former self.

Junho and Junsu look at each other, then back at the electrified fence.

"Oh," Junho says.

"Plan B?" Junsu says.

"I don't have a Plan B," Junho says.

"Oh," Junsu says. He goes back to his phone.

Junho tosses the wire cutters aside and kicks them, but it doesn't hurt so much as make him look in a different direction, drawing his attention to their other surroundings. A massive tree is growing approximately ten feet away, and one of its sizeable branches extends over towards the fence, stopping just short of the top.

Junho grins. There's always a Plan B. This one's perfect and he says so as he explains it to Junsu.

Junsu frowns, but Junho eyes the gap between the tree and the facility grounds with easy confidence. "I can make that, easy."

Junsu clears his throat and doesn't say anything. Junho can sense the skepticism in it anyway.

"What! I can! I'll prove it!"

As soon as he gets to the base of the tree he realises it's a lot bigger, thicker, and has a lot less low branches than he thought. Still though, it's their best chance, and he rolls up his sleeves (Junsu had insisted on long ones) and does a few stretches, readying himself for the physical activity.

Junho never gives up without a fight.

Junho tries seven times, but he can't even climb a quarter of the way up the tree. After he plummets to the ground for the seventh time, Junsu stops finding it funny and makes him stop, yanking him to his feet and brushing off his back.

"I really thought I could do it," Junho says sadly.

Junsu rolls his eyes. "You always do." He points to the security gate, reaching into his pocket with his other hand to pull out some keys. "Should we go in now?"

Junho gapes. "That's cheating!"

Junsu shrugs. "I told you I'd done my part. One day when you're older, you might get it. And then you won't have to be the sidekick." He pats Junho on the head, straightens his Jeremy Scott-designed cape, and saunters over to the gate.

Junho eyes the fence one last time, repressing the urge to threaten the inanimate object with a raised fist, and trudges after him.

+

+ I'll Hold It In And Stand My Ground [1/2] [2PM]

2011-08-30T12:28:37Z

Title: I'll Hold It In And Stand My Ground
Rating: R
Characters: Chansung/Taecyeon (Taecyeon/Nichkhun, Chansung/Wooyoung)
Notes: Written for kpop_olymfics. I was on Team AU with the prompt TVXQ – Keep Your Head Down. Many thanks to biases for always cheering me on. Dark Angel and X-Men helped too. This could probably be tweaked a bit but I have the bad habit of hoarding fic and if I keep it any longer it'll never get reposted.
Summary: It's funny what happens once you realise that everyone deserves a choice.

+

Chansung sees the fire before he sees the guy.

It's not a huge fireball but it's worrying enough for a corridor in such a secure building with so many flammable materials, and when the six nameless guards jostling around the culprit move aside for long enough for Chansung to see his face it's even more concerning, because the guy looks livid. Chansung has been taught right from day one how hard it is to control your powers when you're angry.

One of the guards finally manages to grab the guy's wrists and the guy struggles, but when the bulkiest guard shoves him against the wall, another pinning his legs in place, it's obvious that the guy has lost his fight.

Minjae clicks his tongue and points warningly at them, trying to stand between Chansung and the group to block his view, but Chansung ducks aside, too curious to give in, watching as the guy bites at the bulky guard's face when it gets too close. The guard just laughs and snaps something shiny around the guy's wrist, causing him to yelp.

"Try something now, you little freak," the guard taunts, his words full of malice, but before anyone can do anything the guards are dragging the guy around the corner and out of sight, his indignant protests echoing behind them.

Chansung blinks.

"Who was that?" he asks Minjae, not sure what to make of the experience, staring down the hall after the rowdy group. Minjae doesn't answer, just continues pushing him down the hall to his mathematics lesson.

At one of Chansung's training sessions his question is finally answered. He's been intrigued for weeks, itching to ask about the guy again, wondering about him and who he is and where he comes from. Does he have a power? If he does, has he always had it, like Chansung, or did it appear one day? Has he always lived in the Facility, like Chansung, or is he from another Facility, somewhere on the other side of the world? Could he even be… from outside? Not from a Facility?

The last option both scares and excites Chansung the most.

He doesn't know much about the outside, doesn't think he's ever been out there with prolonged exposure to people and animals and trees and sun, and he has more questions than he could ever ask in a lifetime, but by now he knows better than to ask anyone. Showing interest in anything other than his studies or his training only ever gets him reprimanded, and sometimes, when he was younger, before he learned to hold his tongue, punished.

But this guy changes everything. Because when Chansung walks into the huge, high-ceilinged hall Namyong uses for their training sessions, the guy is already there, and Chansung can feel his heart rate increase steadily with anticipation, his skin prickling with curiosity.

He moves over to the guy, making sure he's not too close, and finally has time to inspect him properly. He's tall, even taller than Chansung, his skin is kind of dark, his hair is floppy, and he has big eyes and ears. He's not smiling, although the lines around his eyes indicate it's usually something he does often, and Chansung's interest is only heightened.

A throat clears beside him and Chansung jumps before bowing to Namyong, who makes his way around them and stands directly in front of the guy. The guy's frown deepens, but he otherwise doesn't react.

"Chansung," Namyong says calmly, "this is Taecyeon."

"Hello," Chansung says, and smiles, but Taecyeon just keeps glaring at Namyong.

Namyong smirks. "Chansung," he says again, but he's still staring right back at Taecyeon, "we'll be working on your accuracy today. Please get ready."

Chansung bows to him, watching Taecyeon curiously out of the corner of his eye, but neither Namyong nor Taecyeon move an inch as Chansung goes to set up his obstacle course.

Namyong looks away for a split second, opening his mouth to instruct Chansung what to do, and that's all it takes. Taecyeon bolts over to the door and begins banging on it, frantically pressing buttons on the swipecard scanner before standing back and raising his hand, aiming it at the scanner.

Chansung cringes and goes to shield his eyes but Namyong just stands there, and even though thirty seconds have passed nothing has happened.

"You can't do anything with that bracelet on," Namyong says calmly, finally moving over to Taecyeon. He kicks him in the back of the knees and Taecyeon looks too upset to fight it, falling to the floor and continuing to scowl as Namyong leans over to jostle the metal band around Taecyeon's wrist. "You can leave first."

And then the guards come in and take Taecyeon away.

Chansung doesn't see Taecyeon for quite a long time after that, and his life feels surprisingly... empty. It's ridiculous because he doesn't even know Taecyeon, but Taecyeon is new and exciting and so different from his daily routine that Chansung finds himself fascinated, even though he knows he shouldn't be.

He shouldn't feel the tingly surge of happiness that he does when Taec finally joins him for an evening meal in the kitchen, dumping his tray on the table opposite him and flopping into the chair, but Chansung really can't bring himself to care.

Taecyeon doesn't look that great, his face gaunt and pale, and he digs into the food like he hasn't eaten in a week, practically licking the rice out of the bowl.

On any other day Chansung would be joining him, but at the moment he's content with eating slowly, taking time to catalogue the other physical changes on Taec's body—the bruises around his wrists and on his temples, the small scars on his neck, the redness of his eyes.

Chansung wonders what happened. Then he wonders if he really wants to know.

"How old are you anyway?" Chansung thinks Taecyeon asks, but he's saying it around a mouthful of mushy vegetables, so Chansung can't be sure.

"I'm sorry?" he asks, still a little too nervous to be completely casual.

Taecyeon swallows. "How old are you?" he repeats, voice deep and throaty.

Chansung clears his throat and tries to sound older when he responds. "Why?"

"So I know what to call you."

Chansung frowns. "My name is Chansung."

Taecyeon nods, seeming irritated. "Yeah, but what year were you born?"

"I don't know."

"You look old."

"I'm not!"

"So you're young."

"Is it important?" Chansung blurts, flustered, and he shrinks back a little, eyes locked on the bracelet around Taecyeon's wrist, but then Taecyeon starts laughing and Chansung looks up to see mirth in his eyes. "You're playing with me."

Taecyeon shrugs. "It was way too easy." He leans closer, but Chansung stays in place this time. "I'm not going to hurt you," Taecyeon says gently, and Chansung knows instinctively that he's telling the truth. "We're in this together."

"This?" Chansung frowns, but he doesn't get the chance to ask anything further because Namyong appears behind Taecyeon and practically drags him away.

Taecyeon winks at Chansung over his shoulder.

Chansung sees a lot of Taecyeon after that. They spend the majority of each day together, eating and going to lessons and training, and eventually that extends to free time and Taecyeon stays in Chansung's room for a while at the end of every day. They start off in awkward silence but they quickly graduate to talking, and then to playing the few board games Chansung has been supplied with, and then to wrestling when one of them cheats, until finally Chansung is at the stage where he can look back and have no idea what they've been doing, just that two hours have passed like two minutes.

Taecyeon is annoying. Taecyeon likes tricking him. Taecyeon uses weird words Chansung has never heard before and teases him with tales from outside the Facility when no-one is watching. Taecyeon is energetic and boisterous and loves attention (when he's not angry and sullen and destructive).

But Chansung is happier than he's ever been. He's never had someone like this before, someone to share things with, someone like him, and he finds himself doing things he wouldn't ordinarily do. He's usually good, he follows the rules and does what he's told and knows how to read the situation, knows what to say so that he stays out of trouble, but with Taecyeon it's hard to stay mature and responsible and Chansung feels good. It feels good to let go, to not creep around in case he upsets someone, to play-fight and do stupid body gags and make up stupid songs and dances. And if they do get in trouble, well, at least he won't be alone.

Taecyeon calls it 'fun'. Chansung doesn't know what it is, but he hopes they can do it forever.

"You should call me Taec," Taecyeon says one day, when they're on the floor of Chansung's room playing Jenga. It's not really one of Chansung's favourites because until now it hasn't been that exciting (you can only win against yourself so many times before you have to admit you're losing, too). "It's what all my friends called me," Taec continues, carefully removing a block from the middle of the tower, "before."

Chansung cocks his head, watching the tower as it wavers slightly. "Friends?"

"Yeah, and my family." Taecyeon… Taec says it like it's important, like it should mean something, like it's even more important than 'friends', and Chansung wonders if the term should mean something to him.

"Family?" Chansung says. Taec finally looks up at him and Chansung is confused to see that he's annoyed.

"Are you repeating me because you're deaf or because you really don't understand?"

Chansung frowns. "I can hear fine."

"Then…" He leans closer, and Chansung is momentarily distracted by the impressive bunching of his eyebrows. "You really don't know your family? The people who brought you up, who looked after you?"

Chansung considers this. "Minjae's always—"

"Not Minjae," Taec snaps, looking even angrier. "Not Minjae or Namyong or anyone who's keeping you here, that's not… not them. They're not family."

"Oh." Chansung doesn't have many people he's close to, and if Minjae doesn't count, then who does?

Maybe there's no-one.

They're quiet for a moment and Chansung easily takes a block from near the top even though he's not concentrating before Taec says, "Me, then."

Chansung has absolutely no idea what he's talking about. "What?"

"Me. I'm your family." Taec looks at him seriously, letting Chansung know how much he means it, and Chansung feels his mouth widen impossibly into a grin, feels his stomach tingle with happiness.

"Okay," Chansung says. "And I'll be yours."

The first time Taec is allowed to spend the night in Chansung's room, both of them are a little lost. They've done all the things they usually do and now that Minjae has told them they have more time together they don't know how to deal with it.

They stare at each other.

"Is this a reward or a punishment, d'you think?" Taec asks, grinning, and Chansung shoves at him.

"There has to be something we can do..." Chansung says, because what if Taec thinks he's boring? What if Taec never has as much fun as he does when they're together, what if—

"Relax," Taec says, rolling his eyes. He collapses back onto the couch and spreads himself out on it. Chansung watches interestedly as he stretches and his shirt rides up a bit. His skin is so dark.

"How did you get your skin like that?" he blurts. The look on Taec's face insinuates that he just asked a really stupid question, but he doesn't care and moves closer, reaching out to touch his stomach. "It's so brown."

"Yah." Taec jerks back and bats his hands away. "I tan easily."

"Tan?"

Taec stares before making a strange sort of hocking noise in his throat. "Oh man, you really are a special one." Chansung doesn't know whether to be offended at that but Taec doesn't give him time to think about it, instead gesturing to the television. "Put something on, I'm in the mood for laziness."

Chansung drops to his knees in front of his messy pile of discs, sifting though them to find a good one. They're all about various types of animals and none of them have audio but they're all Chansung's ever had, and Taec's first documentary with him needs to be perfect. "What do you want to see?"

"Surprise me," Taec tells him.

After a few more moments Chansung picks the documentary on big cats (Taec was drawing some sort of cartoon cat in the margins of his book in their English lesson so Chansung figures he can't go wrong) before scooting backwards and levering himself up onto the couch, shoving at Taec's legs. Taec yawns and waits for Chansung to settle before stretching back out again, his legs dangling over the edge of the couch and his head in Chansung's lap.

Chansung freezes. Is this how people from outside watch television? Should he have draped himself over Taec, too? Taec's head is heavy and warm, and his ear is pressing into his thigh, but it isn't unpleasant. It actually feels kind of... nice.

Chansung wonders if that's weird.

"Seriously Chansung," Taec says, turning his head to stare up him, "just relax. This is what families do. They care for each other and they show that through physical affection. It's fine, okay?"

Chansung nods slowly and Taec turns back to the television, murmuring his approval when a lion attacks a herd of wildebeest.

Chansung finds himself stressing less and less the more times it happens, and when Taec falls asleep on his shoulder a few nights later he hugs him closer, letting himself enjoy the intimacy.

Sooner than he'd ever imagined, it feels like Taec has always been around.

+

Taec has never been too good at controlling his anger. Whenever he gets too worked up, he can feel the fire in his veins, spreading through his body and prickling his palms, licking at his pores before bursting through, singeing the sleeves of his sweaters and causing the ring his parents gave him to glow red.

He can remember when it first happened. He was five and his sister stole his plastic guitar and wouldn't give it back and he wasn't so attuned to his body, didn't know what was coming, so he just felt hot all over and then he'd wrenched the guitar back and it was suddenly a molten glob of deformed plastic in his hands, strings welded onto the fretboard and the neck curled onto the body.

Taec and his sister had both screamed at the same time, but when his sister had tried to tell their parents Taec had had fire coming out of his hands she had got the blame.

Taec really doesn't understand why he's here, why he's not at home with his family, what these people want from him. Whenever he's dragged through the endless corridors of white the people here look at him like he's some sort of disgusting animal who deserves to be caged. If he tries hard, tries to think like someone who hasn't been cursed with a superpower, he even knows how he himself could be convinced to think the same way—but these people took his freedom. They forced him away from everything he knew and locked him in this place, this place that is prison and boot camp and Hogwarts all at once, and he can't find it in himself to consider anything approaching forgiveness.

Normal Korean customs don't apply here but not calling Minjae 'hyung' and not adding a 'sshi' suffix to Namyong's name is a lot easier than expected. He has no respect for these people. The one and only good thing about the Facility is Chansung.

He's a good kid, is Chansung, and Taec is attached to him almost immediately (probably through some misguided combination of wanting to protect him and needing someone himself). Chansung, who has so much power and who has had so much taken away from him and he doesn't even know it, who tries so hard, who still finds charm in old, awful animal documentaries he's seen so many times the discs are scratched. Chansung, who's never known real freedom or family or friends or love.

Taec can't decide which of them has it worse—himself for having had those things and then losing them, or Chansung for never having had them at all.

Sometimes Taec dreams that he's outside. He dreams of a beautiful spring day, of the sun warming his skin and the wind rustling the trees and smells that aren't disinfectant and sounds that aren't boots on linoleum.

He dreams in vivid, bold technicolour, radiant vibrancy that makes him reluctant to wake up because everything here is lifeless. The walls, floors, beds, tables, the storage units and technology, right down the cameras recording their every movement (at least two in their bedrooms, over the TV and bed, and more everywhere else), everything is white.

Everyone dresses the same too, and Taec misses the variety of his old wardrobe so badly sometimes he could cry. There are no pink hats or orange pants here, just white jumpsuits. Every day, white jumpsuits. When he wakes up in the morning, white jumpsuit. After he bathes, white jumpsuit. To sleep at night, white jumpsuit. The guards are a vague exception but they just wear the same in black, so even they don't really count.

Food too, god, Taec remembers ddukbokki and kimchi stew and pizza, flavours and textures and colours, food that made him excited about eating, food that was different and that he could eat whenever he wanted.

Not at the Facility, though. Here it's like variety and choice don't exist at all anymore, and Taec hates it.

"Taec." Chansung starts like he usually does, tone thoughtful and questioning, eyes wide, and Taec mentally prepares himself for whatever strange question he's going to ask next. "Where's your family?"

Nothing could ever prepare Taec for the rush of emotions he feels so suddenly, it's overwhelming, it hurts, and all he can do is stare at Chansung.

"You must have some, right?' he continues, seemingly oblivious to Taec's emotional state as he taps his spoon against his rice bowl. "Otherwise where do you come from? I know the thing about the storks isn't real now, so don't try and..."

But Taec has long since tuned him out. He's been trying to block out all memories of his life before, simply for his own mental health, but now they all come back at once, with unrelenting efficiency and startling clarity, and Taec remembers everyone (family friends crushes teachers coaches teammates pets the ahjusshi who owned his favourite food stall the ahjumma who ran the internet café the pretty girl who delivered milk to his house his favourite idol band the actors in his favourite film his next door neighbours' baby the grandpa he nearly ran over on his bike that one time) and suddenly it's too much. He tries to hide his face but he doesn't get there in time, Chansung is watching him too closely.

"Taec, are you—" Chansung cuts himself off with a surprised little laugh and immediately puts down his spoon, bounding around the table to wrap Taec in his arms, pulling him up for a proper hug.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he can hear Chansung murmuring against his ear, and the shocked smile is still there, he can feel it, but Chansung's strong arms and warm body pressed to his more than makes up for it and Taec lets himself cry, sob deep wracking tears, for the first and only time since he's been here.

In their lesson afterwards Chansung acts as if nothing happened, and Taec has never been more grateful.

Chansung idolises him. To Chansung he is exotic, a thing of wonder, something new and fascinating after so many years living the same existence (because as much as Chansung doesn't seem to understand how wrong all of this is, that doesn't mean that somewhere inside of him he can't want more).

Chansung has him on this pedestal and it's as flattering as it is annoying because as much as Taec should be no-one's idol, he likes the way Chansung looks at him as he manages to whisper a story about his friends from outside over dinner, or the spark of interest lighting Chansung's eyes when Taec uses a word he's never heard before.

Most of the time Minjae or someone comes to separate them before Taec can infect Chansung too much, but each time, Taec only becomes more and more determined that one day, he's going to get Chansung out of here.

He needs a plan, though. A good one. And having the use of his powers would be an advantage, too, but with the bracelet that's an impossibility.

It had been bordering on painful at first, being completely cut off from his own power like that—like going cold turkey. He'd been jittery and achy for (days? weeks?) the entire time they'd kept him in isolation to run their tests, trying to stay calm, trying not to tell them anything, trying to survive, and trying not to think about how they found him in the first place (because the only people who knew about his power were his immediate family members, and putting the two together doesn't even bear thinking about). Now that he's adjusted it's bearable but it gets harder to lose them again after every training session.

Initially he'd wondered why Chansung doesn't wear a bracelet, but then he'd seen how far under the thumb Chansung is, how co-operative and compliant he was raised to be. The people in this Facility simply know that Chansung doesn't need them, because he's never been given a choice and doesn't even know that he should get one.

Taec needs to be like that. To escape, Taec needs to be just like Chansung. He needs to convince Namyong and Minjae and whoever else is in charge that he's come around, that he's on their side, that they can rely on him, and maybe then they'll relax around him a bit.

It'll be a process, but Taec can be very patient when he needs to be.

+

Usually Chansung and Taec go to training together, where Namyong gives them their own exercises to complete (Chansung's favourites are the ones incorporating concentration, because he tends to space out a lot and welcomes anything that will help improve on his flaws), but after a while their regime starts to change. Instead of having them do their activities separately, Minjae starts making them work as a team and the challenges he sets them get harder. Chansung's used to working by himself and he initially finds the teamwork difficult, but he likes Taec and wants this to work and soon enough they're a proper team.

Chansung sometimes wonders if he should be surprised by how quickly he came to like Taec, because the truth is that when they're together he's really happy, and when they're not together he's thinking about him. When Taec's tired or grumpy or lazy Chansung doesn't mind covering for him, likes it even, and finds himself even more pleased when Taec smiles or ruffles his hair in thanks.

He's never had anyone before, let alone someone like Taec, and Chansung relishes the feeling.

When Taec suddenly starts paying attention in lessons and getting serious about learning English and training properly and really honing his powers, Chansung knows that something is wrong.

Minjae and Namyong seem delighted by Taec's progress but Chansung knows better—he knows Taec and he knows when Taec is being insincere and he knows that Taec is planning something.

"What's going on?" he says quietly, standing behind Taec, using his body as a brace to help stretch his sore arm muscles. Taec is sweaty and smelly and sticky from their training session (Namyong always seems to enjoy working Taec particularly hard) but Chansung doesn't mind. He doesn't mind anything about Taec, except when he tries to keep secrets.

"With me? Nothing," Taec says, sounding surprised. "I don't know what's up with Namyong though, is trying to make us his little battle droids or—" he cuts himself off to grunt in pain as they both extend their arms forwards and outwards, Chansung putting a little pressure on Taec's biceps to pull them a bit tighter. Chansung ignores him, pushes a little further for a little longer.

"Don't lie," he says, injecting the slightest hint of a whine into his voice. "I know something's wrong."

Taec turns his head slightly, and Chansung sees a hint of raised eyebrow. "You gonna hold me captive until I tell you?"

Chansung hadn't thought of that, but it's actually a good idea. "Yeah." He presses their bodies together and locks his arms around Taec's, trapping Taec in place, like giving him a backwards hug except a lot more forceful.

"This feels so good," Taec says breathily, his brows raising both up and down this time.

"You're not putting me off," Chansung insists.

Taec drops the act and sighs. "You're really not gonna let go?"

Chansung shakes his head.

"Fine." He leans his head back, his cheek brushing Chansung's nose, and murmurs, "I'm gonna get outta this place."

Chansung freezes. What? "What?" he asks dumbly. What?

Taec takes advantage of Chansung's inaction and wrenches free. "I'm leaving. Soon. And I hope you come with me."

The first thing Chansung feels is the urge to laugh hysterically at Taec's really funny joke (leaving, yeah okay Taec, don't forget your coat) but it has to be the truth with Taec looking at him so solemnly.

The next thing Chansung feels is a sharp pain in his chest like he's been kicked there (by someone with boots on, repeatedly, for several hours), and it doesn't fade when Namyong claps his hands and tells them their break is over.

It doesn't fade at all.

Chansung watches Taec closely for the next few days, tries to find time to talk to him in private, but Minjae and Namyong keep them busy and Taec seems quite happy to go along with it. He says nothing about it and acts completely normal, and Chansung is left wondering if it even happened—but that's usually when the stabbing gut pain likes to amp it up another notch and remind him that he's going to lose the only friend, the only family member, the only person he's ever cared about.

The evening that Chansung wakes up from his nap to a literal pain in his neck, blinking and sitting up to find Taec leaning over him with wide eyes, is the evening Chansung knows Taec is leaving.

"It's time," Chansung says.

Taec nods.

It turns out that Taec has a contact amongst the guards who is helping him, who kept Chansung's bedroom door unlocked, who told Taec how to escape, who is somehow distracting the other guards from noticing their break out, and who is obviously just as deranged as Taec if he thinks this is actually going to work.

"This is crazy," Chansung hisses, following Taec down a corridor that, despite being completely new to Chansung (Minjae usually herds him right at the last intersection, not left), still looks exactly like all the others. "How do you even know where you're going? What if the guards come? What if Namyong finds out, he'll make you lean upside down on your head for hours again!"

There's no response, Taec just keeps looking around and muttering to himself and walking further away from Chansung and Chansung feels the annoyance build up in his chest, battling with the fear for prime position.

"Taec! Yah, Taec!" He hurries over to him and pushes him roughly, and Taec rocks into the wall with the force of it.

"What…" His eyebrows draw together but then he looks at Chansung's face. "Chansungie—"

"Why are you doing this?" Chansung asks desperately.

Taec pauses and cocks his head and then grins widely. Chansung can tell it's at least fifty percent fake. "If you want something," Taec says, obnoxiously slapping Chansung on the ass as if to prove his point, "you should go for it."

Chansung shakes his head, because that's not how it should work, that's selfish and cruel and ridiculous. He yanks Taec's hand away. "Not if it hurts other people."

"I'm not hurting anyone," Taec insists. "I'm going to live the life we deserve to have."

Chansung shakes his head, because he doesn't understand, how he can he make Taec understand, make Taec stay? "You're hurting me!"

Taec's face softens. "Then come with me."

"But I can't!" Chansung blurts. His heart speeds up and his breathing quickens at the mere thought of leaving everything he's ever known, of venturing out into the unknown, of going outside. It's okay for Taec, it's where he's from, he's strong and he can adjust but Chansung isn't, he won't, he can't.

Taec must see his growing panic and he reaches out to rest his hand on Chansung's neck, rubbing his thumb soothingly over Chansung's jaw. "And I can't stay here," he says softly. His bracelet is cold on Chansung's skin and Chansung blinks to try and stave off the tears, but it doesn't work and they blur his vision and drip down his face and into his nose and mouth. Taec yanks him into a hug, presses Chansung's face into his shoulder and rubs his back. "I'm sorry."

Chansung wants to feel angry, feel frustrated and bitter and used but he can't, because he understands. He understands Taec and he understands why he's doing this. And so he slides his hand down Taec's arm and pulls away slowly, trying to drag it out, thinking that he shouldn't do this, shouldn't help Taec with this but he can't not, because he could never stop Taec from doing what he really wants to. Pressing his fingertips to Taec's bracelet, focusing there so he doesn't have to look at Taec's face, he breathes and expels a tiny beam of light. It darts out and slices through the metal and he gently twists it around Taec's wrist and cuts through the opposite side, both sides of the bracelet falling to the floor.

"Chansung," Taec says, but Chansung doesn't look up. "Chansung." Taec hugs him again, holding on so tightly Chansung can't breathe, and murmurs "Thank you" into his ear. Then he lets go and then there are receding footsteps and then just the sound of Chansung's own labored breathing.

Chansung squeezes his eyes shut, because this can't be happening, no way, he'll open his eyes and he'll wake up on the couch in his room with Taec in his lap and it will just have been some strange dream. He'll open his eyes and Taec will still be here and everything will be normal, will be—

He opens his eyes.

Nothing is normal.

+

Taec doesn't remember much about his journey back to Seoul. There are snatches of sensations (walking on rocky ground, the wind drying out his mouth, the smell of air untainted by filtration systems, the motion of a car in transit, the gentle hum of the chosen radio station of the stranger who picked him up) but nothing compares to being back in the city.

Somehow he ends up in the middle of an overcrowded, overlit shopping plaza, and there is so much going on, too much, the noise and the sheer volume of people and it's suffocating and being amongst it all again is like the worst kind of culture shock.

He tries to hold it in, hold it together, hold his head up, but the weight of everything he's done, of everything he's lost, of Chansung who he'll never see again and his family who he can't go back to because the Facility will be waiting, of the lives he had before and can never have again, chooses that moment to sink in and he's left helpless and alone.

He has the freedom he thought he wanted, but he doesn't remember freedom ever being this hard.

It's okay living alone on the streets with a superpower, Taec discovers, until winter really sets in. In temperatures of minus-something degrees Celsius it doesn't matter how fiery he can usually get if he can't even feel his fingers, and his power is rendered completely redundant. Out here, he's just like any other normal person trying to escape the cold, and he supposes that that was what he wanted upon leaving the Facility but not like this—on the run, with no home or friends or family or anything (except a bright yellow puffy jacket that someone left in a dumpster, for reasons Taec is too grateful for to bother thinking about).

Worse than that, he has no food and he's hungry, starving, all the fucking time. He's never really indulged in snacking, even when he had the means, and he can last a long time between big meals, but there haven't been anywhere near enough of those.

Back at the Facility their food had been bland but there had been more than enough of it, and he used to challenge Chansung to—

Chansung.

His stomach twists at the thought, like it always does. Sometimes he wishes he had the power to forget.

There's a band that's playing in the plaza not far from the alley Taec's sleeping in, set up in front of a long strip of shops, taking advantage of the cheer of the pre-Christmas shoppers. Taec only notices them because they're playing an acoustic version of a song he recognizes from his youth (he gets flashes of a music video with a baby and a grim reaper and five guys dancing in the street) and they've built up quite a crowd.

The keyboard player, in particular, seems to have his fair share of admirers, mostly in the form of teenaged girls squealing and dropping a constant stream of coins in the upturned beanie at his feet. Taec suddenly wishes he could play an instrument. At least then he could afford dinner. As it is he could give them a fire show, but he doesn't think that's the wisest idea.

Still, the band isn't that bad, so he finds himself a spot to the side and watches them do their thing. The keyboardist joins in the chorus for a few songs and his voice isn't the best, but it weaves in well with the lead vocalist's and he seems to really enjoy what he's doing.

They finish with a few RnB songs, bowing and thanking their audience, and Taec is startled when the keyboard player purposely catches his eye and winks.

Taec looks behind him, checking for a pretty girl, but there's no-one. When he turns back the keyboardist is inscribing an awkward signature on a busty blonde's collarbone, and Taec knows he must have hallucinated it. He's certainly hungry enough.

Taec is hovering just outside McDonald's, waiting for a bunch of tiny teenaged girls to 'finish' their meal (not that they ever really do, because they seem to compete to see who can leave the most food, which makes their tables ideal targets) when there's a tap on his shoulder.

He whirls around, palms up, ready in case it's that stupid manager trying to throw him out again, but it's actually the keyboard player from the other night. His eyes are wide, and he waits for Taec to lower his arms before smiling encouragingly.

"Hello," the guy says, bowing slightly, and even with that one word Taec can tell he's a foreigner. He's also holding a full bag of food, and the scent drifts upwards to assault Taec's nostrils.

Taec tries not to stare at the bag, but he must fail because the guy starts to laugh.

"Hungry?" he asks.

Taec doesn't reply (of course he fucking is, the last time he ate was two days ago) and looks back over to the girls but he's too late. The cleaner is already sweeping their trash into the bin.

"Shit," he curses, English spilling out of him because it was the first word he learnt and he always liked the sound of it.

"You speak English?" he hears a surprised voice say, and he looks back to see the keyboardist still standing there, looking inexplicably pleased.

"A little," he admits, the guy grins again.

"Cool," he says. "I'm Khun."

Taec pauses but Khun looks harmless enough so he says, "Taec."

Khun nods slowly and looks him up and down.

Taec frowns. "What?"

"Nothing." Except he thrusts the bag of food into Taec's hands and winks again. "Don't eat too quickly," he says, and then he's gone.

A few nights later, Taec passes the place Khun's band played last time but there's no music, no crowd, and no-one performing. Instead it's just Khun there, waiting, stamping his feet and blowing into his hands in the cold.

"Hey," Taec says awkwardly, in English, stopping a few feet away. "Where everyone?"

Khun turns to him, lips pressed together tightly as he looks him up and down. "Where have you been? Are you okay?" He moves closer, and it's in Taec's nature now to step back, to not let him too close without being sure of his intentions. "Relax, it's okay," Khun assures him. "I want to help you."

"Help?" Taec repeats. Unless Khun's planning on doing a benefit concert in his name Taec can't exactly see how that's going to happen.

Khun frowns. "Yeah, uh… help?" He repeats it in terrible Korean, obviously mistaking the reason for Taec's confusion.

"No, I know 'help'," Taec says, "but how?"

"Oh." Khun nods, and then the next second he's grinning, perfect teeth glinting in the streetlight. "When was the last time you had a shower?"

He's going against his own better judgment when he follows Khun back to his home, but the idea of a hot meal and an even hotter shower are too appealing to ignore. There's no real danger of it being a trap either because Khun can't act to save himself, if the way he'd cringed and shrunk away before assuring Taec he didn't smell was any indication, so it's pretty likely he's being genuine.

Khun's house is huge, and Taec gapes as Khun ushers him through the front gate, down a path sub-dividing a gigantic lush garden, and up to a front door guarded by a knee-high Buddha statue, where Taec grabs his arm.

"Why are you doing this?" he asks lowly, searching Khun's face.

Khun looks at him steadily, not flinching this time even though Taec's breath must be terrible. "Because you need help, and I can give it to you."

"You don't even know me."

"Do I need to?" he asks, tilting his head, his fringe falling into his eyes, and Taec sighs.

"You're crazy."

"I hope so." Khun laughs and opens the door, nudging him inside, and Taec almost forgets to take off his shoes, only remembering as he trips over a pair of red high-tops (they always wore their shoes in the Facility, and even though Taec's are pretty ratty right now, they were one of his prized possessions on the streets). Once he does Khun leads him down a hallway lined with family photos (six people in most of them, Taec notes), and then into the kitchen.

Four heads turn in their direction, and Taec immediately feels like one of those animals in the wildlife documentaries Chansung liked so much.

Chansung.

Taec feels the familiar violent ache in his stomach and forces down the sudden wave of nausea, blinking as Khun pushes him closer to his family.

"Guys, this is Taec," Khun says.

Taec waves awkwardly.

They stare at him for far longer than is comfortable, before Khun's mom smiles and leans over the kitchen bench, lifting the lid off a container. It smells amazing and his stomach pulls in a different way and he nearly starts drooling on the spot.

"Are you hungry?" she asks, and it's all he can do not to launch himself on the food and pour it directly into his mouth.

He gels with Khun's family pretty much immediately. He can't even say half of their names but they're kind and they share their amenities with him, they don't ask him too many questions, and he sees no judgment or pity in their eyes.

They seem to like him too—Khun's dad because he's respectful and bows the full ninety degrees, Khun's mom because he eats well, Khun's sister because he helps with the washing up afterwards and Khun's other sister because once he showers she realises he's handsome and someone she can show off to her friends. He's even assured that Khun's older brother will like him, but that he's in Thailand, so Taec is more than welcome to sleep in his room.

Taec has no idea why these people are letting a stranger stay in their son's room with no supervision (he could steal anything, do anything to them, and be out of there before they even realised) but he's not going to argue, and as soon as a still-smiling Khun leads him to the right room he lies back on the bed and barely pulls up the covers before he's asleep.

Taec means to leave the next day, he really does, but everyone is still so nice, offering him more food and another shower and the opportunity to stay another night, and Taec has always loved sleep but on the streets he could never let his guard down enough to get any, so really it doesn't take much thought at all.

Every day Taec wakes up and tells himself he won't stay, and every day it becomes harder to leave. Khun's family doesn't seem that eager to kick him out and soon enough it's not the material things but the warmth of Khun and his family that is keeping him around, because, quicker than he'd ever thought possible, they become his family, too.

So when Nichan comes back, Taec just moves into Khun's room, on a mattress on the floor. And when the school year starts up again in March, and Khun and Yanin go to high school, Taec goes with them.

In a way, high school is comforting. He knows rules, he knows regulations, he knows lessons and keeping to schedules and working hard and being disciplined, so the politics of high school are easy. It's the social aspect of it that trips him up, because he has nothing in common with these people, and none of them are accepting as Khun is of his stuttered lies about his past.

He used to have friends, lots of them, and they would play together and laugh together and bond together but it's like he's forgotten all of it. He's forgotten how to talk to more than one person at a time, forgotten how to hit that perfect level of friendliness (not so enthusiastic as to be uncool but not so aloof as to be too cool, either). Really it's all down to the fact that he can never let his guard down, and sometimes the pressure of holding everything in and keeping it together gets too much and it's hard to keep control of his powers when he feels like he's suffocating.

It happens on his lunch break, which is naturally the worst time for it to happen. Taec has been feeling stressed and aggravated for days, snapping at everyone, unable to concentrate properly, his palms itching constantly with the need to let it all out. But he has school and study and chores and he's trying not to think about Chansung and he just can't deal with it yet so he pushes the urge down, down, struggling to keep himself in check.

He does pretty well until he's in the bathroom one day, locked in a cubicle and practicing some deep breathing exercises Minjae taught him, when some guys (who Taec recognizes as Khun's 'friends', but who he has never liked) come in and start talking shit about Khun. They are beyond idiotic and totally not worth his time and at first Taec is happy to tune them out, counting the tiles on the ceiling as he breathes, but then the guy gets obnoxiously loud and starts on Khun's family.

Taec twitches, and there's a distinct burning in his palms as the guy calls Nichan a fag and his sisters sluts and then starts on his parents, saying they are spies and traitors and should be sent back home and by that point the burning has spread up his arms and to his torso and it's started to become painful and he can't hold it in anymore, not even for one second. He bursts out of the cubicle the idiots recognize him immediately and shrink back, pathetic and frightened, and he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and he knows he looks legitimately scary, so he forces himself to push past the guys before he does something stupid. He stalks outside, bolts past Khun who is calling his name, and continues away, away to the area behind the gym where it's usually deserted.

There's a guy there making out with some girl but Taec just glares at them and they scramble away and then Taec is free to raise his palms, close his eyes, and let go.

When he was younger the feeling of that release used to overpower him, used to control him, but time and lessons at the Facility changed that and now he knows exactly what he's doing and only feels relief, the burning in his body surging out like air from a balloon.

After about a minute he's run out of fire and arms drop to his sides and he takes a deep breath, reveling in the warm glow that the use of his powers always leaves him with, but then—

"What the hell?" he hears someone say, and eyes snap open to see Khun, puffing for breath and staring with wide eyes, and Taec is screwed.

"I have a present for you," Khun announces, closing Taec's mathematics book right when he's in the middle of an equation.

"Okay," Taec says carefully. This is the most contact Khun has had with him in days, since he saw Taec's power display and then ran off, and Taec has to be careful of his reaction, especially since Khun was the one with the courage to initiate this. "I'm ready."

"It's not here. You have to come with me somewhere."

"Where?"

Khun grins, and Taec feels a little relieved. If Khun is smiling like that then whatever happens next won't be too bad. "Do you want your present or not?"

Taec nods.

"Okay, then come on."

They go outside and get into Khun's car, both silent until they pull into a car park a few minutes later. Taec doesn't bother to look where they are. He'll find out soon enough, and he trusts Khun, and he'd rather sort this out first.

"Aren't you going to ask me what the hell that was the other day?" Taec asks finally, glancing at him curiously. If their positions were reversed, he's pretty sure he would have grilled Khun for information by now, but Khun has pretty much acted like nothing is out of the ordinary.

Khun tugs up on the handbrake. "I was waiting for you to bring it up. I didn't… quite know how to start the conversation."

Taec nods, and then starts a little as Khun suddenly grabs his elbow, sliding his fingers down Taec's forearm to his wrist, before brushing his fingertips gently over his palm. Taec shivers.

"That fire came from inside you?" Khun asks quietly, still stroking, and he doesn't sound scared, or threatened, or disgusted. Taec is more than grateful for it and resists the urge to hug him, to throw himself on him and lounge all over him like—

He swallows and focuses back on Khun. "Yes."

"It's your… power?" His eyebrows furrow as he finally looks up at Taec.

"Yes."

"And what happened the other day? Why haven't I seen it before?"

"I haven't… used it. In a while. I got angry and just…"

"Exploded," Khun supplies, smiling slightly.

"Exactly." He grins back.

"Well, I think I can help stop that from happening again. Come on." He gets out of the car.

Taec follows him and raises his eyebrows. "A gym?"

"I know how much you hate that you can't pay your way, and I know that you need a release and I spoke to someone here so I know they're hiring. It makes sense."

Taec looks at him, touched that Khun went to all this effort, feeling warmth infuse his stomach. "Yeah," he says, "it does."

And so Taec gets his first job.

+

They show Chansung pictures of Taec's face and while at first it's a relief to see those goofy features again, Minjae hisses things like betrayal and traitor and it's confusing because it wasn't like that at all. It hurts that Taec left and now Chansung is lonely again but Chansung knows Taec didn't do it to hurt him. Taec just wasn't built for this place, not like Chansung. Chansung has lived here forever. This is who he is. He knows he's good at this, good at following orders, at using his power on demand, at succeeding, at asking the right questions and knowing which are the wrong ones. Good at being good.

Taec fought back too much. He criticized and backtalked and joked around. He was too independent, he was discovered too late, he had already formed too much of his personality outside the Facility.

Taec had to leave. Chansung can't.

Chansung spends months being analysed, poked and prodded and examined by the psych department in case any of Taec's subversion had rubbed off on him.

Chansung thinks it hasn't, not really, because Taec was too impulsive and independent and Chansung is the complete opposite, but when he's strapped to a chair, wires and probes and needles attached to him for the hundredth day in a row, an errant, awful and completely unexpected thought enters his mind before he can stop it: this isn't fair.

At first Chansung is frightened by his own thought processes, because surely they'll realise, they'll know, and then he'll be in trouble, but nothing happens. No-one knows. Not after an hour, not after a day, not after a week.

And then his accidental rebellion stops being scary and becomes exciting. How many more things can he think that they don't want him to? How many more things won't they know? So he tries it out, does experiments and silent tests of his own, and that's when he really begins noticing all the other things that aren't right. Things he's been vaguely aware of but happy to let slide because he didn't think he was allowed to dwell on them, because he didn't think he had a choice. Things that are stupid and unfair and stifling, like the way he can only use his powers when they say, or how there are cameras always watching him (even in the bathroom), or how none of his rooms have windows and he's only allowed to be outside for a few hours a week. Or how he was never, ever asked if this was what he wanted for his life.

Yes, Chansung thinks, keeping his expression neutral as he watches them disconnect their machines from him on the one hundred and seventeenth day, it's funny what happens once you realise everyone deserves a choice.

On the one hundred and fiftieth day, Chansung's mental state is deemed secure and he immediately goes back to the way things were before.

When he's allowed back into his room everything looks to be just the way he left it, except not quite, because Taec is still gone. Chansung expects a bracelet of his own but for some reason, he never gets one and the fact that they are that confident in their control over him only makes him angrier.

Minjae is nice to him, nicer than he ever was before, but Chansung's sure that he's been instructed to keep tabs on him, so he's very careful what he tells him. He's careful with everything he does, because he knows he has to be smart now. Not just the smart that involves knowing Pythagoras' Theorem or the English alphabet—he has to be street smart, like Taec.

It's ironic that as the one with the power, he has the least power now. Not only have all the Facility's security procedures been overhauled and improved after Taec escaped, but his training has got more intense, too.

Suddenly, he has a third of the free time he had before, and has more training sessions than ever. Namyong works him rigorously, exercising a different aspect of his power every day, punishing him for his mistakes with physical activity, and Chansung goes to bed exhausted every night before getting up the next morning and doing it all again.

Chansung wonders if they're trying to make him their own private weapon in case Taec comes back. He manages to have them all convinced that he hates Taec, that he thinks Taec is loathsome for betraying them, but Chansung knows now that the Facility isn't his family. Taec taught him that, and for that he'll always be grateful. He owes them nothing.

And so, Chansung makes a decision. He doesn't care how long it will take, what it will take, or what he'll have to sacrifice, but he's leaving. He's going to get out even if it kills him.

Just like Taec.

+

>

+ I'll Hold It In And Stand My Ground [2/2] [2PM]

2011-08-30T12:26:16Z

<

+

After their high school graduation Taec goes through a long rough patch of accidentally setting everything on fire before he finally understands it's because he's horny. It's an awareness that dawns much later than it probably should, but he's not exactly familiar with the average teenager's life so he figures it's excusable. It only comes about at all because he walks down the hall one day and the door to Nichan's room is half-open, and he just happens to look inside to see Nichan with a girl pressed against the wall. Nichan's shirt is off, their hips are moving in a decidedly erotic way and the girl is moaning, and Taec immediately gets that same feeling he had when the comb he was holding earlier melted—the burning in his gut like he's the one on fire.

Neither of them notice Taec and he knows he should leave but he can't—this level of passion is something he's never seen in person, and it's too hypnotizing to look away. He watches for a few more moments, eyes tracing over Nichan's form, the power of his movements, the way his muscles move under his smooth skin, the redness of his lips and tongue, and he barely even notices the girl, registering only that her noises of pleasure are getting dangerously high-pitched.

It's then that he comes to another realization—that him pushing a girl against the wall probably wouldn't help at all. Not with the way he's so much more interested in Nichan, and not when all he wants is to feel the hard lines of another man (Chansung, he finds himself thinking fleetingly, but that's just—) under his fingertips.

When Taec showers that evening he takes longer than usual, embracing the heat in his groin and thinking of what he saw and, for the first time in weeks, he doesn't set his towel on fire afterwards.

To his chagrin, the effectiveness of that strategy wears off quickly, and he is trying to work out some of his frustrations on the bench press at the gym when he finds himself distracted by Khun as he walks past.

Taec's not sure why he even notices him, since he's effectively on level with Khun's knees, but it's enough to break his rhythm and he has to force himself to finish his set. He reaches eight, hefts the bar back onto its struts and levers himself up, trying to be subtle as he watches Khun settle at the lat machine.

He's always been abstractedly aware of Khun's appeal but he's never bothered himself with it. There are always people who want Khun's attention and Taec's just been happy to have Khun as his friend, to exchange language lessons with, to do homework with and laugh with. Khun is kind and makes him the most comfortable he's felt since Chansung, but his looks have never been an issue.

Until now. Now he can't help but watch Khun's biceps flex, watch his face tense as he strains to complete his last rep, watch the sweat drip off his nose and chin before he breathes out and wipes his face with his towel.

He looks up and notices Taec watching and grins widely. He holds out his water bottle and he suddenly looks so attractive that Taec can't stop himself from standing, moving over to him, and taking it.

The condensation on the bottle is a nice sensation against Taec's tingling palms, and he forces himself not to finish every last drop and to give it back, his fingers brushing Khun's. Taec breathes in sharply at the sensation and wonders what's wrong with him.

Khun smiles again and takes a swig himself, head tilting back to expose his sweaty neck, and Taec slowly, carefully, knowing he really shouldn't but unable to stop himself, reaches out to run his fingertips down Khun's throat. His palms start prickling again, violently, like he's slept on his hand and it's fallen asleep, and it feels incredible.

Khun freezes mid-gulp, lowering the bottle slowly to look up at him with big shimmery eyes.

"Taec?" he says lowly, his Adam's apple bobbing against Taec's fingers, and Taec is long gone.

His first sexual experience with Khun happens right afterwards, awkward grinding in the showers, several minutes of hot flushed skin and trying to keep quiet and feeling like his whole body is going to set alight. Then it's over and they're both panting and Khun is holding Taec's face in his hands, poking his cheeks, and Taec is actually, truly relaxed and laughing and letting him.

They've crossed several boundaries now and Taec doesn't know what will happen next, but can't bring himself to care because for the first time in months he doesn't think about Chansung or the Facility at all.

They're having sex for the sixth time in as many weeks when it happens—Khun arches beneath him, hot and pale and firm, but Taec blinks and suddenly all he can see is Chansung. Chansung's too-long hair and the feminine slant of his eyes and his Roman nose and the long, ridged expanse of his neck as his head tilts back and Taec finds himself coming harder than he ever has, squeezing his eyes shut and digging his fingers into his palms so he doesn't set the bed on fire and—

When he opens his eyes again it's Khun staring back at him, surprised and a little hesitant as he reaches up to brush Taec's hair off his face.

"What was that?" Khun asks quietly.

Taec shakes his head and separates them limb-by-limb, picking up his clothes and locking himself in Khun's bathroom as he dresses.

He wishes he were more surprised by what just happened.

Taec tries to avoid Khun for a while but it proves difficult when they live in the same house and frequent the same gym. No matter how often he tries to vary his schedule, working different hours, Khun is always at there at the same time as he is, looking as beautifully hurt as ever.

Taec can barely stop himself from going to him, because the thing is, even though Khun is physically nothing like Chansung (bulky and brawny where Chansung was lean and defined), his easy kindness and genuine smile are more than familiar, and that is what makes it so difficult to stay away.

Taec knows what this is, now. It isn't about Khun, not really. It's about Chansung. He misses Chansung. He needs Chansung. He needs—

He needs to do something, because this strategy (of ignoring his past, of attempting to forget the Facility and forget about Chansung and everything they went through) isn't working. He can't forget anymore. But if he is going to do something, something stupid, something dangerous, something for someone else, he has no right to get involved with Khun again, no matter how good he is at making Taec feel almost whole.

No matter how hard it is to resist.

Khun is naked and sprawled out on his bed, waiting and watching Taec with a gentle smile not unlike the one that had first welcomed him to the Facility, and Taec feels the roiling guilt pick up its pace in his stomach.

"What's wrong?" Khun asks softly, like he's afraid speaking any louder will shatter Taec's fragile psyche. Taec welcomes it because right now, he feels like it just might.

"Nothing," he says, and he should be telling the truth. Khun is a good guy, he deserves more than Taec, more than his shitty powers and his shitty deceptions and his shitty life, and Taec should really let him go for good but—

But he can't.

"Nothing," he repeats instead, and distracts them both by leaning forwards to lick up Khun's inner thigh.

Khun, however, is more emotionally sensitive and much more stubborn than Taec would like (or maybe that's why he does like him, because that's Chansung to a tee, too). The next time they're together and they're flushed and panting and Taec is trying to will the post-orgasmic burning in his palms away, Khun turns to him and runs his fingertips over Taec's cheekbones, intimate in a way that Taec usually doesn't like.

"I always feel like there's somewhere you'd rather be," Khun says. "Someone you'd rather be with. Like you have some sort of hidden agenda." His eyes glimmer in the low light and Taec finds himself holding his breath as Khun's fingers skate down over his jaw and to his lips. "You can talk to me, Taec."

Taec's eyes drift closed and he savours the contact for a moment, finally breathing out and giving in. "If I ask you to help me with something, will you? No questions asked?"

Khun's hand pauses in its journey down his throat and Taec opens his eyes. Khun looks disappointed but Taec knows he means it when he says, "Whatever you need."

Taec needs a lot.

Khun never refuses him.

+

There's a guy waiting for Chansung in his room when he returns from his evening meal.

Taec, he thinks immediately, with an optimism he'd forgotten he had, but it isn't Taec at all. This guy is petite and slender in ways that Taec never was, and when Chansung gets closer the guy turns around and he's wearing a nametag that reads Udong.

Chansung immediately wants another serving of the noodles he just ate.

"Who," he says instead, used to ignoring his hunger, "are you?"

Udong looks him up down disinterestedly. He stands out a lot here—not only is his shirt bright yellow, but he's the first new face in the Facility since Taec left, and Chansung is more than a little wary of him.

"Your name is Udong?" he continues, briefly wondering if the guy can talk.

"They thought it would be cute. I'm not cute." Udong pulls a frowny face and it completely contradicts his words because even through his suspicion it's the cutest thing Chansung has ever seen—and a lot of his documentaries have baby animals in them. Chansung tries not to let the overwhelming adorableness affect him.

"Okay," Chansung says. "What should I call you?"

"Wooyoung," Wooyoung answers, although his attention is already on something else. Chansung watches with amusement as he stalks over to the couch and fishes out the socks Chansung had taken off and stuffed under the cushion the night before, too lazy to put them away. "Yah, what's this? Do you always leave your junk around?"

"It's my room," Chansung points out, wondering if he's serious.

Wooyoung narrows his eyes. "Not anymore, it isn't."

It turns out Wooyoung is quite serious, if the way he practically moves in is any indication. They're together a lot—lessons, work outs, meals, down-time… The only time he leaves is during Chansung's power training and at nights, when he finally heads off to his sleeping quarters before appearing again the next morning, exactly at Chansung's wake-up call. At first it's weird and difficult because Chansung hasn't had anyone since Taec (and Wooyoung is not Taec, far from it) and Chansung, with his newfound freedom of thought, can't help but wonder why.

In the past he would have assumed it was some kind of twisted apology for all the months of psychological torture they put him through, that maybe he'd passed their tests and this was his reward. Now he's more inclined to think completely the opposite, that they probably figure a new companion will put him at ease, get Chansung's guard down enough to share his secrets and keep him on side. Whatever the case, there is a long period of adjustment for the both of them and neither of them trust each other and nothing of any substance is said for more than a fortnight, until curiosity finally gets the better of him and Chansung finally gives in and asks, "What can you do?"

Wooyoung glances up from his home furnishings magazine, looking far too innocent. "Whatever I set my mind to."

"No," Chansung persists, "I mean what can you do? How did you get in here?"

There's a pause before Wooyoung tilts his head and says, "I walked."

Chansung stares at him, trying not to react, but he can't stop the corner of his mouth from twitching upwards and he knows Wooyoung has seen it when he leans back in his chair, looking triumphant. "Shut up," Chansung says, leaning over to shove playfully at his arm.

Wooyoung topples off his chair.

"Did you have anyone, before me?" Wooyoung asks one day, while they're watching the documentary about pandas. They've both seen this one before (more than once, more than ten, fifty, a hundred times in Chansung's case) but neither of them mind.

They're on the couch, Chansung in his usual spot on the left, and even though at first he didn't want to let Wooyoung sit next to him in Taec's spot, eventually Wooyoung whined and mocked him enough for him to give in. Like everything else, it was weird at first, but in a way it's also pretty convenient because while Wooyoung provides the same body warmth Taec did, he takes up a lot less room and lets Chansung drape himself over his body instead of the other way around.

Despite all the time they've spent together Chansung still isn't sure how much to trust Wooyoung, so he doesn't answer the question straight away, pretending to be engrossed in the eating habits of the giant pandas of the Sichuan province.

"Did you have a friend?" Wooyoung continues, and smacks Chansung lightly across the back of the head. "Yah! Did you?"

"Did you?" Chansung counters, finally looking at him, but Wooyoung presses his lips together tightly and avoids his gaze.

You're interesting, half of Chansung thinks, while the other half thinks, I'm an idiot, and they're quiet for a while, Chansung picking at a loose thread on the arm of the couch.

"He slept a lot," Chansung says quietly, a peace offering. "He never made it to the end of a movie."

Wooyoung nods slowly. "Not even the one on foxes?"

"Not even the bit where you almost see that fox's expression change." He watches as Wooyoung frowns, not liking the direction the mood has taken and deciding to try and lighten things up a bit. "We can watch that one tomorrow, if you want."

Wooyoung smirks, attitude switching up again so quickly Chansung almost gets emotional whiplash, and says, "I have a better idea."

Before he leaves he borrows the documentary about ducks (the most boring one, in Chansung's opinion) and promises to return it soon.

When he does bring it back and slip it into the player it takes Chansung approximately three seconds to realise it is not the same film. He looks at Wooyoung, alarmed and trying to appear not to be, but Wooyoung just smirks again before pulling an exaggeratedly innocent face, curling his fists under his chin and pouting.

Chansung wonders if he's insane.

"Yah," he says, keeping his voice steady, "what's this?"

"Ssh," Wooyoung scolds him, "the movie's started."

Chansung finds his eyes riveted to the screen, because holy shit, there are people on it. People, not animals, people who are interacting and talking and even though there's no sound and the people don't look like anyone Chansung's used to (the main female has yellow hair! And blue eyes!) it's fascinating. Chansung's seen photos of this, snatched glimpses of things on screens when he's being shepherded down halls and past offices, but this is mind-blowing.

Wooyoung leans in close, resting his head on Chansung's shoulder like Taec used to, but Chansung can't quite bring himself to push him away.

"This is—" he starts, but Wooyoung reaches up to flick his ear.

"Camera's on us, remember," he breathes quietly, making it look like a yawn. "Not the TV."

Chansung very deliberately doesn't look up at the camera trained on them, focusing instead on trying to look normal. Whatever that may be.

At the end of the film everyone's smiling and the main female and the main male move in very close, so close their lips are touching, and Chansung suddenly remembers—this is kissing. Taec told him about this, showed him one time after a session of testing their powers, when Minjae had suddenly disappeared and left them unsupervised for a few minutes. It had been quick, and weird, and Taec had laughed at him after, eyes crinkled and eyes reddened, but it had also been kind of nice.

Chansung asks Wooyoung to bring another film like this on their next movie night.

It's been two months and they still haven't been caught. Wooyoung refuses to tell Chansung how he's doing this and Chansung doesn't ask, no matter how much he wonders about it—about who it is that's supplying Wooyoung with these films (maybe the same person who helped Taec?) and about Wooyoung himself (because Chansung always thought that he was on the Facility's side, not Chansung's, and if Wooyoung ever gets found out then he'll be in a lot of trouble).

Chansung knows they should stop, but every few days Wooyoung turns up with a new disguised film and every time it gets harder to stay scared, because Chansung loves it. He loves watching these people interact with one another and lead their lives because they're so average, so utterly unremarkable, and it's some of the most appealing material Chansung's ever been exposed to.

He likes to imagine Taec like that—ordinary and unexceptional, loving and loved and free—and he's directly in the middle of doing so one night when Wooyoung asks him a question.

"Did you watch movies with Taec?"

"Why do you keep asking about him?" Chansung asks, frowning, because Wooyoung is always asking him things but lately it's been more than just the occasional interested question. Wooyoung has been on the verge of interrogating him about Taec all week and as much as Chansung has resigned himself to the fact that that's why Wooyoung's here (he's not dumb and, no matter how hard he tries, Wooyoung is not subtle) it still hurts because he likes Wooyoung. He likes his intelligence, his humour and the way he'll sometimes slip and accidentally let an aspect of his real personality out, like when he talks about interior design and when he dances (Taec did a lot of silly dances and so does Wooyoung but the difference is that Wooyoung can be really serious about it, too), or the rare occasion he talks about his past. Chansung lets him have secrets because anything's better than being alone again.

Wooyoung leans in, resting his forehead on Chansung's upper arm. "No reason," he says quietly, even though it's obvious he's lying.

After a particularly successful training session, when it feels as adrenalin is coursing through his veins instead of blood even after his warm down and shower, when he feels invincible and unstoppable and nothing short of perfect, Chansung loses all of his inhibitions and kisses Wooyoung.

Chansung kisses Wooyoung like in the movies they watch, soft and slow, until Wooyoung gets impatient and yanks him closer. Wooyoung's lips are dry and thin but Chansung finds he likes the sensation. They keep their mouths closed, neither of them quite knowledgeable enough to push it any further, but when Chansung pulls away he makes sure to grin at Wooyoung in a way that lets him know it won't stay that way forever.

Except it does, because when Chansung gets back from his afternoon lesson Wooyoung is gone, and he never sees him again.

+

Taec knows he's ready when he can't think of anything else to do. He's been preparing for a long time, and his savings are gone, and he's run into innumerable problems, but with Khun's help he's overcome them all and now everything is finally, finally in place. It's just up to Taec to set everything in motion.

It's too bad he's always been so terrible with goodbyes.

There's probably a better way of saying 'thank you' to the family that took you in as a stranger and then fed, clothed and housed you for years, Taec thinks, than cooking them ddukbokki, but he can't be too obvious. They think he's just treating them to a traditional Korean meal on Christmas Eve, and that's how it has to stay.

He can't tell them anything (he can't even tell Khun as much as he wants to know), not only for their own safety, but because of the looks he can imagine on their faces. Simply thinking about the hurt and confusion they're going to feel when they find him gone is almost enough to make him stop. As cowardly as it is, he can't bring himself to tell them anything in person, so while Nichan and his sisters are doing the dishes and Khun's parents have been sent to the sitting room to relax, Taec goes to his room and takes his puffy yellow jacket and his letter to Khun's family and tells everyone he's going for a walk.

He leaves the letter in the hallway, tucked into the corner of the keyholder where he knows Khun's parents will see it. It's not long, only two pages, and there's no way in hell it could ever say everything he wants it to, but Khun helped him get it as close as he could.

And so, with one last glance at the family portrait of the seven of them hung on the wall (it was taken in July for that Christmas, and Mrs Horvejkul had insisted they all wear Christmas-appropriate attire even though the air-conditioning in the photographer's studio had broken down, and Nichan had hated his bowtie and Khun thought his hair looked too girly and Yanin's sweater had been woolen and Cherreen wanted to wear make-up and Mr Horvejkul had been missing some sports game and Taec had been entirely unsure about having his photo taken, but they'd all known how important it was to Mrs Horvejkul and so they'd banded together to make it work and none of them had had to force their smiles even once for the photographer), Taec walks out of the Horvejkul's lives forever.

Khun meets him ten minutes later at the bus stop, and even though a giant red scarf obscures his face, Taec doesn't need to see his expression to know what he's feeling. They sit in silence, side by side, waiting, until the bus appears in the distance. Taec moves to stand and Khun grabs his hand, holding on tight.

"Are you sure?" Khun asks, voice wavering.

Taec turns to him, reaching down to adjust the scarf so he can see Khun's eyes. He doesn't have to say anything.

When the bus comes, it's Khun who leads him onto it.

They stand in the very spot where Taec first met Khun, when he had nothing and no-one, when he had nothing to lose and so much to learn. Taec finds himself thinking about full circles, circles of life, and how much life can change—how you can start with so little and gain so much, and then lose it all again—and he's sad and nervous and grateful all at once, but he's not pessimistic. He did it once and he can do it again. With Chansung. The way it should have been done in the first place.

"There's a lot of people," Khun says, observing the hurried last-minute shoppers, excited children up past their bedtime, and romantic couples as they pass, places to be and people to see.

Taec nods. "The more the better."

"I'll miss you," Khun adds quietly, and Taec finally looks at him.

"Me too," he says earnestly.

Khun keeps watching the crowd, eyes glassy. "You'll have your friend."

"And I won't have you. Which means I'll miss you." He leans directly into Khun's field of vision and makes sure to grin his stupidest grin, the one Khun can never resist laughing at, and knows it's worked when Khun rolls his eyes and pulls him into a hug.

Taec holds on tight, waiting for Khun's grip to relax before moving away slowly, only a little surprised when Khun darts back in to kiss him one last time.

Taec can almost taste his sadness. When he pulls away his eyes are glittering with the lights of the storefront displays, the night breeze ruffles his messy hair and he looks so much a brokenhearted heroine from the old movies he's made Taec watch that Taec almost tells him everything. He deserves to know, because if it wasn't for him Taec could never have made it this far—but Taec knows that he deserves not to know even more. Nichkhun's life is perfect without Taec, and the less he knows the better, so Taec's responding grin isn't even all that forced.

"Do me a favour and proofread Jay's raps for me, will you?" he says, gently removing Khun's fingers from his arm. "Sometimes they're really shit."

Khun laughs and nods, and Taec salutes him, not waiting for a response before turning and moving into the crowd, blending in, letting the motion of a hurried populace carry him down the stretch. When he travels a few metres he stops and plants his feet, grounding himself, and people give him annoyed looks but the annoyance turns into to shock and then wonder when he shakes his arms a little to loosen his muscles and then holds his palms face up, level with his chest, and produces one small fireball in each one. The crowd quickly parts around him, staring and pointing and gasping, and he lets the fireballs get bigger and bigger, roughly the size of basketballs, now.

When he looks around he notices Khun at the front of the crowd and catches his eye. Khun smiles and he smiles back before Khun turns and pushes his way out of the crowd, people filling the gap he created in less then a second, and it's like he was never there.

Taec's arms are getting sore, and he's just in the middle of hoping he won't be waiting too much longer when he sees them, barreling through the crowd to reach him, Namyong leading six other guys in suits. Taec has to admit that he's proud they thought they'd need so much manpower to subdue him, but he's not going to fight them. Not this time.

They finally push through the last group of people, spilling into the space Taec's spectators have left around him, and Taec grins, manipulating his fire into a perfect love heart.

"Man, I missed you guys," he says.

Namyong grins and his men move in.

+

Chansung knows something's happening even before Minjae is agitated and preoccupied in their lesson. He can't explain it, but when he woke up that morning he knew immediately that something was different. The feeling hadn't faded over his morning meal or during his bathing time and now that Minjae's behavior has reinforced it and Chansung almost comes right out and asks before remembering—he's supposed to be compliant. Docile little subjects like Chansung don't ask questions, not important ones, and so he holds his tongue.

But that night, when he's wide awake and alert way past lights out and he realises he hadn't thought about Wooyoung once for the first day in weeks, Chansung is convinced that it's something big.

"—yeon," Chansung hears Minjae during his lesson, and it takes less than a second for Chansung to attach a 'Taec' to the front of it. Chansung's heart thumps harder in his chest and he tries not to seem too interested, concentrating instead on the history lesson in front of him. Minjae is speaking quietly but not enough, and Chansung can hear every few words of his hurried conversation into his phone.

"…he's really…cell…why…Jinyoung know? What…fire…here?"

And that's all Chansung needs, because now he knows for sure what's happening.

Taec is here.

Chansung is on edge for the rest of the day, all of his energy expended on trying to act normal. It's tougher than ever to look like he has no idea what's going on when all he wants to do is find Taec and hug him and then maybe hit him and then definitely escape with him.

He has to stay calm and he has to be careful. Taec's obviously back because he has a plan, and if Chansung screws it up then that'll be it for both of them. The best thing to do is wait for Taec to somehow make the first move.

He has to wait a long time. It's been a month and nothing has happened and Chansung is getting more worried every day. What if something's gone wrong? What if Taec simply got captured and he never had some sort of grand plan? What if he does and it doesn't involve Chansung? What if—

But no. Chansung knows Taec. He trusts Taec.

It's only a matter of time.

It happens when he least expects it to (and Namyong would be so disappointed in his lack of preparation). Chansung is in his room, back from his evening training and bathing sessions, wondering what to do before bed (anything to stave off the crippling loneliness, usually), when he notices an odd number of DVDs in his pile.

Chansung moves closer to the television, counting the pile again, and yes. There is a case there that wasn't there before.

Maybe Minjae dropped off something about puppies like Chansung's been asking, but he'd only told him just that morning and he was waiting for approval.

Wooyoung, Chansung thinks then, but it can't be, because Wooyoung is gone, barely even having existed in the first place. So then that leaves…

Taecyeon.

Chansung crouches, eyeing the pile carefully. It's a plain black case, just like the rest of his collection, but it's an anomaly and it's off, somehow. More than aware of the camera just above him Chansung opens the DVD case carefully, aiming for nonchalance, angling it towards himself just in case and—

Inside is a card.

Chansung has seen cards like this before. Chansung has seen Minjae scan cards like this to open doors that are locked all over the Facility.

This card is his way out.

No longer caring about the camera, Chansung bounds over to the door and, feeling more reckless than ever, he swipes the card.

The door beeps and clicks, and it's unlocked, the little light turning green.

Chansung rests his hand on the door handle and forces himself to breathe. He stares at the smooth, shiny metal, cold against his palm. He's never opened a door himself before—his whole life at the Facility has meant that he hasn't done a lot of things for himself. He's never cooked a meal. He's never been outside unguarded. He's never watched television with sound, he's never been shopping, he's never had his own phone, he's never had a job or a family or friends like the people in the movies… And it was these very thoughts that stopped him last time. Last time, he was scared, petrified of the consequences as he watched Taec disappear from his life.

But Taec has come back for him, and he won't let the fear stop him this time. Taking a breath, keeping his eyes wide open, Chansung opens the door.

He's hardly the stealthiest person on the planet (something many a training session has shown him), but everyone in the Facility seems just as distracted and busy as Minjae and Chansung suspects Taec's contact of helping out again. Aside from that, no-one expects Chansung to have ever taken enough initiative to leave his room, so the countless corridors of the Facility are mostly deserted.

As long as he's lived here he's had a chaperone of some sort and can't ever remember going anywhere alone, but the back of the card has a tiny map on it, just like the ones Taec used to draw in his workbooks to show Chansung his old home, and he follows it the best he can.

After many long minutes of searching, backtracking, and a close call with a troop of guards, he reaches a corridor with a door at the end that's different to the others, the heavily reinforced steel catching his attention, and he knows that this is it. He hurries towards the door, barely skidding to a stop before thrusting the keycard under the scanner.

It doesn't work.

It beeps, turns red, and then reverts back to standby. He tries again, but it just does the same thing.

Chansung is stuck.

"No," he hisses, "no!"

He's got this far, this can't be it, it can't be, not when Taec is so close, he can feel him, if Chansung could only…

Chansung clenches his fists, digging his fingernails into his palms, before he blinks and looks down at his hands, flexing his fingers out and clenching them again.

Right. He can.

Pocketing the keycard, he takes two steps back, raises a palm, concentrates on the door mechanism, closes his eyes, and lets go.

When Chansung opens his eyes again there is a gaping, smoking hole where the lock used to be. He grins.

The first thing Chansung notices about Taec is that even in the dingy light his hair is dark yellow, like lots of the girls in the films Wooyoung watched. It's shorter too, and it would probably spike up after he bathed, but right now it's too dirty to do anything other then droop limply onto his face. Everything about him is dirty, actually, like they locked him in this tiny glass cell and then forgot about him—punishment for running away, punishment for coming back.

Chansung walks closer and bends down because Taec's slumped on the floor, his back against one side of the cell, knees brought to his chest because they won't fit stretched out all the way, and Chansung can see the nodes and wires attached to his skull, feeding out of the tiniest hole in the glass and into a nearby computer, monitoring all his stats.

Oh, so they haven't completely neglected him, then.

He knew he would feel conflicted if he ever saw Taec again, but he thought it would be of the hug-or-hit variety. Right now his heart just feels like it's breaking.

"Taec," he says quietly, pressing his palm to the glass. "Taec?"

He doesn't look like he's asleep, but they could have drugged him, and Chansung drags his gaze down from his face to his chest, counting his breaths before getting distracted by his hands. They're strapped and bound and he has a new metal bracelet on each wrist, cutting into his skin in ways that will undoubtedly scar, blood dried around the edges.

The sight of the blood is all it takes for Chansung to find his distress turning quickly into anger, because it doesn't matter what sorts of capabilities someone has, they don't deserve to treated like this. No living thing deserves this—except maybe the people who did this to Taec, but they've earned it by now.

They've earned much more than this. This would be the pleasant option.

Chansung wants to kill them.

Chansung shouldn't use his powers when he's so emotional.

Chansung doesn't care.

Chansung springs up and focuses all his energy into a strong beam, quickly and efficiently slicing through the glass, just like Namyong taught him, cutting a clean hole in the cell and carefully maneuvering himself inside. He creeps closer to run his hands over Taec's clammy skin, before gently peeling the nodes off his temples.

The computer starts to whine at the lack of feed but Chansung doesn't hesitate for a second, shielding Taec's body with his own and reaching out to send out a quick flash of light. It explodes and Chansung only feels satisfaction.

Taec's head tips against his chest and he cradles it there, enjoying the feel of their bodies pressed together for the first time in years, and he strokes Taec's back, rocks him and rests his chin on his greasy hair.

It takes Chansung a few minutes to unbind Taec's hands and remove the bracelets, and then to lever Taec up and support him so he won't fall, so he won't get hurt any more. Taec is barely conscious, mumbling incoherently, slack and floppy in Chansung's arms.

"I've got you," he tells him firmly. "It'll be okay."

He doesn't know that it will be.

Chansung gets halfway up the corridor before his uncertainty becomes inevitability and he knows for certain—they're not going to get out of this.

An alarm is going off somewhere and underneath that he can hear the thunk-thunk-thunk of booted feet nearing closer and the yells of panicked Facility staff and he can't, he can't do this, how did he ever think he could, he's not strong enough for this, and after all that Taec has been through Chansung is letting him down again.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Chansung whispers, pinning Taec's body against the wall with his own, trying to hold him up, but Taec's too limp and he staggers back a little, hiding his face in Taec's shoulder. "Taec, please, I can't—"

"You can."

Chansung looks up, wide-eyed, and opens his mouth when he sees Taec's open eyes but then Taec reacts to something over his shoulder and Chansung spins around, back pressed to Taec's front, shielding him.

A tall, flat-faced man is standing there, flanked by Minjae, Namyong and two Facility guards who are trying their best to look menacing. All of them except the middle man have guns, like he expects them to protect him, to sacrifice their lives in doing so.

He looks vaguely familiar, like Chansung has caught glimpses of his calm, complacent smirk out of the corner of his eye repeatedly for the past twenty years but never bothered to wonder who he was. He doesn't have to wonder now—the way he waves his hand and Minjae and Namyong edge closer, simultaneously clicking off the safety on their guns, leaves no doubt that he's the one in charge. The one behind this entire operation.

Minjae takes another step forward and Chansung acts before he can even think, because Taec is in danger and there is no time for hesitation, his palm raising and sending out four strong pulses of light in quick succession. All four guns clatter to the floor, warped and useless.

"I don't want to kill you," Chansung says, advancing on them slowly, "but Namyong taught me how and I will if you don't leave right now."

The two terrified guards don't hesitate, escaping without glancing back even once.

Chansung turns his gaze to Minjae. Minjae looks back and opens his mouth to speak. The middle man beats him to it.

"He won't hurt us," he says, sounding very confident, but Chansung keeps his eyes on Minjae—he knows him, can see his hesitance, the way his mouth stays downturned and the darting of his small eyes. "You can't," the man continues, beyond smug, like that very statement decides the matter.

Chansung narrows his eyes, finally turning to the man, feeling his anger spike further. "If I was you," he grits out, already feeling the power fluttering at his fingertips, "I would never tell someone what they can and can't do ever again."

Chansung holds his gaze and the man's eyes flicker to Taec, and Chansung can see Namyong creep closer again, but Chansung doesn't give him a chance, sending out two quick power pulses. Minjae yelps and Namyong grunts and they both collapse to the floor, clutching their knees in pain, and Chansung wastes no time in pressing both hands to the sides of the man's face, pleased to finally see a spark of fear in his eyes.

"You made me like this," Chansung says lowly. "This is your fault."

"I made you a god," the man says, his breath hot on Chansung's face, making his skin crawl.

"You made me a puppet," Chansung growls. "You treated me like a monster." He holds the man's gaze for a few moments before stepping back, hands dropping to his sides. "I'm not a monster." The man blinks, wavering, like he's unsure what's happening, and Chansung wastes no time in rearing back to punch him in the stomach.

The man drops to the floor and Namyong scrambles over to him. "Sir!"

"That was for Wooyoung," Chansung says, stepping back again, so he can feel Taec's warmth against his back, so he can feel the anger draining out of him. "Now leave."

Namyong looks up and narrows his eyes. "Fine."

"But—" Minjae starts, and Namyong smacks him across the head.

"Just get Jinyoung out of here!" he yells and Minjae nods, hurriedly hooking the man's arm over his shoulder and rushing down the corridor. Namyong spares Chansung one last glance (and he looks… impressed? Proud? Whatever it is it's too strange for Chansung to interpret) before limping after them the fastest he can and disappearing around the corner.

Chansung turns back and Taec blinks at him, still groggy and drained, but he's smiling and Chansung has missed him so much so he can't stop himself from lurching forward and pressing their lips together.

This is only Chansung's second kiss and even he can tell it's not that great, because Taec can't control his body yet and Chansung is too panicked and desperate to move his mouth properly and it's sloppy and their lips slip and slide but it's perfect. It's perfect and Chansung reaches up to touch Taec's face as he gently pulls away. Taec is grinning at him.

"Missed me, then?"

Chansung lets out a bark of laughter that sounds way too loud, even to his own ears, but he can't help it, he's working so hard not to let all of his feelings overwhelm him and he just—

"Stop thinking so much," Taec says. "I'm here, I'm okay, I'm with you, and we're going to leave together."

Chansung nods. "Okay."

"Let's get out of here."

Chansung grins. "Okay."

+

It's ridiculously cold outside and Chansung huddles into him, shivering, and it takes a few moments for Taec to remember that Chansung has never been cold before.

"Are you okay?" he asks, worried, but Chansung smiles so widely and so perfectly that he can't help but smile back.

"I'm fine," Chansung says, barely getting it out through his chattering teeth.

"Your lips are turning blue."

"Really?" Chansung's beaming only increases. "They're never done that before!"

Taec rolls his eyes but finds that he really can't feel any emotion that is not elation. The knot in his gut loosens and his lungs expand and his heartbeat grows less frenetic with every step they take away from the Facility and Chansung is with him and everything is beautiful.

He takes a deep breath and so does Chansung and Taec is just about to tell him about the next stages of his plan when fire lights up the sky and explodes, far enough away not to be dangerous but still so loud and sounding like gunfire. Chansung ducks but Taec just laughs and pulls him closer.

"Relax, it must be just fireworks for the Lunar New Year," he says.

Chansung tilts his head. "Fireworks?"

"People are celebrating," Taec says. "We will too. Later."

"Because you have a plan, right?" Chansung says. He looks nervous, every single element of this completely new to him, and Taec knows from experience that he needs a distraction.

"Oh," Taec says, making sure to look his greasiest, "do I have plans." Chansung groans but grins as well, and Taec grins back. "Now get us to a road."

The terrain is rougher than Taec remembers it, nothing but scrubland in view in the twilight, and his legs are wobbly and Chansung has to bear a lot of his weight but he adjusts and works with him, just like they used to in training, and Taec knows everything is going to be okay.

He tightens his grip on Chansung and Chansung squeezes back and they do it together, the sky bathed in fire and light above them.

+

+ More Collected Meme Responses [2PM]

2011-07-04T10:59:34Z

More meme challenge responses! The first is less of a stand-alone than the other two but I have no plans for it in the near future so I figured I may as well just post it. Again, these have been edited a little since they were first posted.

+

Shut Up And Don't Buy Me Ice Cream
Taecyeon, Wooyoung. PG. 260 words.
Taecyeon knows Wooyoung pretty well.

Taecyeon isn't as thoughtful as Nichkhun or as sensitive as Chansung, so he isn't often the first one to pick up on the emotional states of the people around him, but he likes to think he understands Wooyoung.

They've worked together a lot, and sure there have been co-hosts and co-stars but in the end it's really just the two of them (in waking up and stumbling around in too-early hours of the morning, in transit, in dressing rooms, in rehearsals, in keeping each other awake between takes, and in stumbling around in too-early hours of the morning and crashing into bed). They know each other, quirks and faults and skills, and they're comfortable together so they can play off each other, and they have a natural chemistry even when there's a script. And even though they're each not the first person they turn to in times of need, Taecyeon doubts that Wooyoung would let him throw him around the stage like a rag doll if he didn't trust him completely, so there's that too.

The point is, Taecyeon knows Wooyoung pretty well, and the truth of the matter is this—Wooyoung doesn't like ice cream as much as people think he does. It's something to say when the question comes up in interviews, something to eat when it's hot, but more than once Taecyeon has seen someone 'gift' Wooyoung with ice cream, only for him to smile his polite (read: insincere) smile, thank them, and then discreetly trash it once they were far enough away not to witness it.

+

The Dark Side
Khun, Wooyoung. PG. 360 words. Written using this prompt.
Nichkhun's always liked spending time with him, has never minded being the perpetual initiator, and Wooyoung has never complained about it before.

They're stretching before practice, on the ground and leaning forwards over their legs, and Nichkhun is just noticing the way Wooyoung's hands reach far further over his toes than Nichkhun could ever even hope to emulate when Wooyoung suddenly says, "We should stop."

Nichkhun, busy concentrating on the burn in his thighs, just grunts and doesn't bother responding until he straightens up. "Stop what?"

"The physical stuff in public," Wooyoung says lightly. Like what he's talking about is simple and easy and doesn't involve things like ingrained habits of over twenty years and ever-increasing affection of over three.

Nichkhun is a touchy person—he doesn't even realise he's doing it half of the time. He's always known that Wooyoung is pretty much the opposite but Nichkhun's always liked spending time with him, has never minded being the perpetual initiator, and Wooyoung has never complained about it before. "Okay… may I ask why?"

Wooyoung shrugs, drawing his legs apart as far as they can go (which is a lot, and it always makes Nichkhun's groin throb in sympathy) and leaning forward. "You make me look bad."

Nichkhun isn't following. "I'm sorry?"

"You always look good and you're smiling and you're perfect and it's making me look bad. It'll be a lot easier if I just stand with Junho or something." He looks up and he's serious and earnest, a small crinkle in his brow as he levers himself upright. "Maximum result, minimum effort."

Nichkhun can't deny that it's a solid theory but—he's not perfect, no way, far from it, Wooyoung knows that, because his eyebrows are kind of… and his hair is… and when he gets angry he… and really? Really? "Won't you miss me?"

Wooyoung rolls his eyes and hops to his feet. "Stop being so dramatic. Anyway, Chansung likes all that stuff and he's pretty much sunshine personified. You guys look good together, why don't you try it?"

And Nichkhun watches from his spot alone on the floor as Wooyoung makes his way over to glaze-eyed and open-mouthed Junho, snaps his fingers right in Junho's face to get his attention, and lifts up an arm for Junho to help him stretch.

+

Hook, Line And Sinker
Taecyeon/Chansung. PG-13. ~1600 words. Hooker AU for a cliche fic challenge, kind of cracky.
"I… was meant to tell you about that. JYP said tell you that she wants someone… new."

Taec is in the middle of grooming for his afternoon booking when it occurs to him. "Mrs Choi hasn't had an appointment for a while," he comments, bending further over his knee, closer to his foot propped on the arm of the couch, so he doesn't cut off half of the skin of his toe with the clippers. "I wonder what happened."

"Ah," he hears from the bathroom, and it's a guilty 'ah', the kind of 'ah' Chansung uses when he 'accidentally' eats Taec's leftovers or breaks Taec's new vibrator or ruins one of Taec's anime downloads.

"Ah," Taec repeats.

"Yeah." Chansung pops his head around the doorframe, chin and one cheek still lathered with shaving cream, and bites his lip. "I… was meant to tell you about that. JYP said tell you that she wants someone… new."

Taec frowns. "New."

"Yeah, you know. Different."

"Different." Taec knows he shouldn't feel offended. This is how it works, this is their job. They bend themselves to the will of their clients, sometimes literally, and if their clients get sick of them then they have every right to move on. People have done it before and they'll do it again. Still, that doesn't mean it hurts any less—Mrs Choi was one of his favourites. She wasn't too old, she still had a great body, and she was kinky enough without being too gross. "Who?"

"Sorry?" Chansung freezes, avoiding Taec's gaze, and really that's enough to answer his question, but Taec wants Chansung to say it aloud.

"Who did she want instead?"

But Chansung just ducks back into the bathroom, avoiding him completely and closing the door behind him.

Taec clicks his tongue but he doesn't have time to pursue it. Mr Jung is a stickler for both timeliness and cleanliness and he still has to pick his outfit.

The morning after, Taec calls JYP to confirm his schedule for the next few days, only to find he doesn't have one.

"What?" he asks, not sure he's heard right, because he always has clients. Practically ever since he started he's been in high demand, clients of all demographics drawn to his irresistible (or so he's been told) combination of dashing good looks and excellent build.

"There's Mr Kim on Friday for your double with Nichkhun," JYP supplies helpfully, and Taec hears the shuffling of paper, "but otherwise it seems you have the rest of the week off to relax."

"Relax?" Taec can't remember the last time he relaxed. He doesn't do relaxation—he does constantly on the move, he does so many appointments in a week he basically lives in a taxi, he does trips to the spa every few days to maintain his excellent skin tone. Idleness has never been, and never will be, part of his lifestyle.

"Just know," JYP continues, his tone suddenly full of warning now, "that if your numbers continue to drop I might have to think twice about your position in my books." And then he hangs up.

Taec stares at his cell phone.

What is even happening.

A banging noise followed by some cursing sounds from the living room and he emerges from his room to see Chansung crouched on the floor, hurriedly shoving all his stuff back into his bag. He looks up as Taec moves over to help him.

"Morning," he says, taking the bathroom bag Taec picks up before standing and shoving on his backpack.

"I just spoke to JYP," Taec says, wanting Chansung's opinion, "and he told me—"

"I'm sorry hyung but I have another client, we can talk about it later, right?" He gives Taec a cute little smile, eyes wide as he walks backwards to the front door, grabbing a banana from the kitchen counter as he goes. "Don't wait up tonight, though. Record my drama for me?"

And then he's gone, leaving Taec alone in their apartment.

Without work, Taec has no idea what to do. He has things he should do, starting with cleaning up the apartment for one, but he's not that desperate. He could sleep, usually his favourite activity, but even that's lost its appeal now he has so much time to do it in.

After an hour of standing naked in front of the mirror wondering what's wrong with him, Taec notices that one of abs is a little lopsided and realises he needs to go to the gym.

Khun is on the treadmill when he arrives, and he greets Taec with a smile, powering the equipment down and pulling out his headphones so he can talk.

"Hey," he says warmly, but he quickly notices Taec's mood and adjusts his own to match, dialing down the brightness of his grin. Khun's good like that. "What happened?"

Taec moves closer to him, offering his water bottle when he sees Khun's is near empty. "Can I ask you something? How are your bookings lately?"

"How do you mean?" Khun nods his thanks and takes a gulp.

"I mean in terms of volume. Do you suddenly find you have… less?"

Khun tilts his head, considering. "Not really. I forwarded one client to Wooyoung because she doesn't like being intimate with people who have smaller heads than her, but generally I'm all booked out. Why?"

"Because I'm not. I only have one appointment for the rest of the week." Khun's eyebrows raise high in surprise and Taec is relieved, because with the apathetic reactions of the people around him so far he's been on his way to having a comprehensive quarter-life crisis. "Exactly! That's what I thought! And JYP told me to relax!"

"What's 'relax'?" Khun asks absently, obviously thinking deeply about Taec's problem, and Taec has never been more thankful to have him as a friend. "When did this start?"

"I thought only recently, but then I realised I've slowly been having cancellations for the last few weeks. Mrs Choi was the first one to completely defect, though. To Chansung." Taec pouts, still trying to come to terms with the betrayal.

"Wait," Khun says, sounding confused, "didn't you recommend that Mrs Choi try Chansung?"

"What?" Taec asks slowly.

"I heard…" Comprehension suddenly dawns on Khun's face and he rubs the back of his neck. "Oh."

Taec narrows his eyes. "Oh?"

"I think you should talk to Chansung."

When Chansung finally comes home two days later—to an apartment that's been dusted and vacuumed for the first time in months, not that he notices—Taec waits for him to finish his shower before confronting him in the bathroom, ignoring the way the steam fogs up his own glasses and the fact that Chansung is completely naked.

"What are you doing?" he growls, and Chansung stops in the middle of reaching for a towel.

"Drying off?" he says, trying to seem confused, but Taec knows him too well. He knows exactly what Taec's really asking, but he's just as stubborn as Taec and won't give in.

Fine. Taec has never minded being explicit, particularly if it will give him the answers he wants. "Why are you stealing my clients?"

Chansung scoffs, but it's hardly convincing. "How could I do that, I don't even know who they are. Anyway, I would never—"

"Bullshit." Taec stalks closer, sliding his glasses up to rest in his hair. If he closes his bad eye and squints his good eye his vision is pretty close to 20/20 anyway. "What about Mrs Choi? Or Manager Kim? Or Teacher Yong?"

Chansung's mouth opens and closes. "Ah."

"Khun told me he heard you talking to JYP, saying I was giving my clients to you, and seriously Chansung, what the fuck? Why are you doing this?"

Taec glares at him, angrier than he remembers being a long time, but Chansung doesn't seem too affected—he just stares back steadily, before slowly making his way over to Taec, reaching up to pull his glasses off completely and place them on the counter. It's hard to focus when he's this close and Taec is about to start yelling again when Chansung tangles his hand in Taec's hair, gaze flicking from his eyes to his mouth before he presses his lips to Taec's, slipping in his tongue and bringing Taec's hand to his still-wet ass.

Oh, Taec thinks, and he's too startled to respond so when Chansung pulls away he can only blink at him dumbly.

"I'm sorry, hyung," Chansung murmurs finally, smirking and not sounding sorry at all. "I can't help it—I just want you all for myself."

Taec raises his eyebrows. "Chansung-ah. We're hookers. I think that's going to be a little difficult."

Chansung lips form an attractive moue, his self-assured seductiveness disappearing completely, and he takes a step back, moving for the towel rack again. "I know. I'm sorry." His tone is actually genuine for the first time in days and Taec finds he likes him much better like this.

"If you put on that towel," Taec says lowly, "I definitely won't forgive you." He reaches out for Chansung's hand, finding it when Chansung laughs and helps him out by moving closer. He squeezes tight. "Listen. I'm sure we can figure something out. In the meantime… should we try something new?"

Chansung grins, and Taec briefly wonders how many clients have been on the receiving end of that smile, before Chansung leans in again and they spend the rest of the afternoon testing each other's skills.

+ Collected Meme Responses [2PM]

2011-03-16T10:27:15Z

I've wanted to post for a while but I don't really have anything longer quite ready yet, so I thought I'd cheat and collate some responses to the meme challenges I've written lately. (I also have comments to respond to and I'm a horrible person, I promise I'll get around to that asap. ;__;)

These were written in 15-20 minutes and have been edited minimally in the name of readability.

+

Blood, Sweat, Tears
Taec, Wooyoung (Suzy, Soohyun). PG. 700 words.
She laughs, her head tilting back, and Taec is suddenly disturbingly aware of her hair brushing over her neck.

Taec wakes up uncharacteristically quickly. As soon as he opens his eyes he's completely lucid, one-hundred per cent coherent, even though it's only 4am, and he feels extraordinarily well-rested. He finds his glasses on the first flail, he doesn't hit his head on Junsu's bunk when he levers himself up, he doesn't trip over his guitar, and the floorboards don't even creak as he slips around the door and pads into the hallway.

He makes for the bathroom first, knowing Minjae will arrive ten minutes to take he and Wooyoung to filming and that they'll have to eat in the car, and enters to find Wooyoung already inside.

Wooyoung doesn't seem to notice him in the clear spot he's rubbed into the cloudy mirror and he starts when Taec nudges him aside with his hip.

"Shit, Taec, a little warning maybe?" He pulls the floss out of his mouth and inspects for cuts.

Taec ignores him.

Wooyoung grudgingly shuffles over. "We have two bathrooms for a reason," he says, voice scratchy with tiredness.

"I just want to spend as much time with you as possible," he teases, grinning and reaching for his toothbrush, for once not mixing it up with Junho's.

"Why are you so awake, anyway?" Wooyoung asks suspiciously. "You're usually a caveman until the cameras are around."

Taec shrugs and frowns as he slathers toothpaste on his brush. He hates eating after brushing. The minty taste never reacts well with anything and it seems pretty pointless when almost everything he ever eats is littered with garlic, anyway.

God, he's so hungry. He wishes he could have a really huge meal right now—and not just breakfast foods, either, but meat. American-style meat. A huge, juicy steak, medium-rare, juicy and bloody and delicious…

He drools some toothpaste onto his wifebeater at the thought and grunts in annoyance, reaching to rub it in. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Wooyoung staring, looking kind of disgusted, and he spits the remainder of his toothpaste into the sink. "What?"

"Nothing, it's... Your teeth kind of looked…" He shakes his head. "Whatever, just hurry up."

He pushes out of the room. Taec runs his tongue over his teeth.

They seem fine to him.

"You're much less stiff than I've ever seen you," Namyong comments, sounding impressed, and Taec beams at him, puffing out his cheeks to look cute for the Real 2PM camera he knows is floating around somewhere.

He feels pretty great, actually. They've been filming for hours and usually he would be on his last reserves by now but he still feels fresh, and it must be heading out of winter already too, because he's barely even noticed the cold. That's the benefit, he figures, of sleeping longer than an hour. If only those in charge would recognize that advantage.

"Just make sure you get the timing right. Okay? Okay." Namyong pats Taec on the back and Taec practices the move a few more times, swivelling his hips and revelling in the fact that they actually do what they're told. They're fluid and lithe and it's like a switch has been flipped overnight because suddenly, he can do this.

"Congratulations, oppa," he hears from behind him, and it's Suzy smiling up at him. He finds it cute, the way she's so much more open, sometimes even carefully bordering on cheekiness, when there's no one around to record it. "You're finally getting it."

"Yah," he says, grinning back, "I dance your choreography better than you!" He does a shoulder wiggle as proof.

She laughs, her head tilting back, and Taec is suddenly disturbingly aware of her hair brushing over her neck. All of his focus zeroes in on that one spot, on each strand of hair that skims over her skin, on the tender white flesh, and he is immediately filled with desire. Not for her, though, for— for—

"Yah, Taecyeonnie!" Taecyeon jerks his head up and blinks, the moment broken. Soohyun beckons to him. "We're needed on set."

When Taec nods and looks back at Suzy, she waves and bows a little before sidestepping a gaffer and wandering back over to the make-up table.

Taec watches her go, feeling the incredibly strong urge to go after her, to—

He forces himself to follow Soohyun.

+

Let's Not And Say We Did
Khun, Wooyoung (Jinwoon). PG-13. 700 words. Based on Easy A.
"Okay," he says, standing up on the bed, and pulling Wooyoung up beside him, "start groaning."

Nichkhun has always had a thing for vulnerability.

It must feed some part of him that needs to feel needed, needs to feel useful, like he can lend a hand and really make a difference. Usually it's no big deal—he can help with his sister's homework, he can mow the lawn for his mom. He doesn't mind sacrificing a little bit of himself to help another, and he feels good about being able to make someone's life a little easier.

Wooyoung knows this, Nichkhun is sure, which explains why he turns up at Nichkhun's house after what proves to be a particularly harrowing day at school.

"Hey," Nichkhun says from the top of the stairs. Wooyoung is the last person he was expecting. They barely talk to each other at school, and yeah, they bonded a little bit earlier in detention, but Nichkhun never expected anything to come from it. "Mom, this is Wooyoung, my cell mate. Wooyoung, Mom."

Wooyoung just stares at him. Nichkhun's mother looks between them.

"Well," she says, "I think I should make some tea. Don't enjoy yourselves too much."

"Do you… come on up." Nichkhun descends the rest of the stairs and grabs Wooyoung's arm, tugging him up and into his room where they stand in awkward silence for a while.

"They keep saying I'm straight," Wooyoung finally blurts.

Nichkhun nods. He's heard the rumours. Honestly, he doesn't really care for talk, but Seulong likes to know if people are talking about his breasts and keeps Nichkhun updated whether he likes it or not. Nichkhun keeps nodding, waiting for Wooyoung to elaborate, but that's all there is.

Wooyoung just keeps staring at him steadily, the look on his face very much like he expects…

Nichkhun will always remember that moment, because that is when it all sinks in with disturbing clarity, and he knows exactly what it is that Wooyoung wants him to do. "No."

Wooyoung says nothing, but his bottom lips pokes out a little more.

"No," Nichkhun says, more forcefully this time, standing up and moving away, as far away as he can get from Wooyoung in his admittedly small room. "No. No no no."

He says no many more times that night, which is why it's so hard to understand why he ends up saying yes.

It happens at Jinwoon's party. It's the perfect place, because everyone attends it, and therefore everyone sees Nichkhun walk in, pretending to be drunk as Wooyoung hangs all over him, pretending to be obnoxious as he asks Jinwoon for the use of his room, and pretending not to care when Wooyoung slides his hand over his ass and keeps it there, gripping far too tight.

Nichkhun grits his teeth and reminds himself that there is more than one reward waiting for him at the end of this: Wooyoung's life will be better, and he will have in his possession a voucher to purchase all the new beanies he wants.

Jinwoon seems a mixture of shocked and creeped out as he directs them to his room, and Nichkhun makes sure that his lips stay attached to Wooyoung's throat on their trip down the hall and to the door. He can feel everyone watching as Wooyoung enters and he follows, waving at them coyly before slipping inside and closing the door.

He undoes the buttons on his shirt and hangs it over the doorknob before joining Wooyoung on the bed.

Wooyoung tilts his head and frowns. "Have your nipples always been so weird?"

Nichkhun smacks him across the back of the head. "Are we doing this or not?" he hisses, glancing at the door.

"Right, okay," Wooyoung says, nodding. His eyes widen as Nichkhun pulls out a packet of condoms and begins to take one out. "Wait, I'm not—"

"Shush," Nichkhun says. He has this all planned, he knows what he's doing, and he knows why he's doing it. He just hopes it's all worth it in the end. Upon picturing Wooyoung's miserable expression, though, he thinks it will be.

Besides, it's just this one time, right?

"Okay," he says, standing up on the bed, and pulling Wooyoung up beside him, "start groaning."

+

Digiversed
Jay, OT7. PG. 270 words. Crossover with Digimon.
They're on an MT for a new variety show when the world turns rainbow and goes topsy-turvy.

They're on an MT for a new variety show when the world turns rainbow and goes topsy-turvy. One minute Jay is simultaneously laughing at Wooyoung for failing to complete a freeze and poking Junho repeatedly in the asscheek, and the next he is falling through a rip in the universe and landing hard on Chansung's head in the middle of a giant forest.

"Ughhhh," Chansung groans as Taec rolls Jay off him, and Nichkhun checks Chansung's face for injuries before helping him up.

"Everyone check your hair," Junho instructs, patting his own down and glancing around for any cameras.

"To what, impress the shrubs?" Jay says, standing and brushing down his jeans. They're designer and now they're dirty, and even though he tries not to, all those years of training and worrying about his appearance seem to have stuck, and he swipes his hand over his forehead.

"Where's Minjae-hyung?" Khun says, seeming concerned. "He was unwrapping my lollipop."

"More to the point, where are we?" Wooyoung glares at the trees, like he's suspicious of so much nature in one place. "Is this a hidden camera?"

Junsu moves over to one of the trees and plucks a leaf, pulling down his face mask to sniff it. "Smells real."

They all stare at him for a moment, and once it becomes clear that Junsu just sniffed a tree Taec starts to laugh at him. Jay is about to join in but at that moment Chansung shrieks, high-pitched and girly, and Jay turns, about to give him shit for that but then he realises why.

Right there, on the ground, right in front of him, is a round, pink, basketball-sized… thing. And it has long ears. And giant eyes.

And it talks.

"Hello, Jay," it squeaks. "I'm your Digimon."

Jay squeals and practically leaps into Taecyeon's arms.

+

I Can Sleep For Days
Khun. PG. 340 words. Based around 2PM's Hahamong episode.
Nichkhun is used to sleeping in a number of different configurations.

Nichkhun is used to sleeping in a number of different configurations: Chansung tends to sleep in the lounge room but when he's injured he'll use his bed; Wooyoung is in the habit of migrating from one room to the other, fickle and flighty in his sleeping habits; and Junho sometimes joins him because he hates sleeping alone, bothered by things Nichkhun wishes he would share but never does. Even Taec slept in his room when Junsu's knee was hurt, claiming Chansung's bed since Junsu had to sleep on the bottom bunk and apparently the top bunk was too uncomfortable.

These relocations aren't just restricted to Chansung's bed, either. Sometimes Nichkhun will wake to find a warm body next to him, wrapped around him, and he will pull up the blankets, making sure he breathes quietly and moves gently, waiting until the last possible moment to rouse them.

Yes, Nichkhun is used to sleeping with a number of different people, so when he wakes up one morning to feel someone clinging to him it's not strange at all, and he can't help but smile to himself, roll over and—

—almost freak out, because the person all over him is not Wooyoung or Junho or indeed any of his band mates but a disturbingly grotesque woman and he can't help but panic for a moment because who let the hideous fangirl in to murder him but then he registers the cameras and he relaxes, because as much as his heart is still thundering in his chest, his head tells him that it's not likely that one rabid fan could organise all of this. Hopefully.

Two fully-grown men in drag jumping on him, smothering him and giving him a wedgie was not what he expected when he woke, but he knows how to roll with the punches and lays quietly in his bed, forcing himself to calm down so his ears aren't too red for the cameras, and gets up only once Mong-hyung and Haha-hyung have bashed the life out of the only two pots they own.

+

Come Quickly, I Am Tasting Stars
Taec/Jay. PG. 230 words.
Taec likes playing connect the dots with the stars on Jay's neck.

Taec likes playing connect the dots with the stars on Jay's neck. He likes to drag the tip of his finger slowly and gently over Jay's skin, likes to the feel the goosebumps that inevitably form and, most of all, likes the way Jay reacts. The way he'll pretend he doesn't like it, the way he'll roll his eyes and grab Taec's hand to stop him before he goes too far, before his fingers manage to slip under Jay's shirt and then down lower.

Like he doesn't want Taec to go further.

Taec's own response to that varies depending on his mood. This time he grins widely, cooperating and pulling away… but only to slide further behind Jay and trace the letters forming 'Jaywalkerz' across his shoulders, instead.

"Would you quit it?" Jay hisses, jerking even further away, but Taec doesn't let him, looping his arms around Jay's chest and dragging him backwards.

"And you were so happy to see me, too," he teases, speaking low and warm, right into Jay's ear, watching delightedly as it turns red.

"That was before I remembered how fucking annoying you are." Taec coos into his ear at that, and he tries to flail his arms and twist out of Taec's grip, but Taec has always been much stronger. "You're so—"

"Gay?" Taec supplies, and leans down to scrape his teeth over the closest star. "I hope so."

+

Also, I have no idea if this would appeal to anyone but I'm trying to help out in my own way over at help_japan! My thread is here. Everything that's happening there is so amazing. ♥

+ Spitting Games [1/3] [2PM]

2011-02-02T12:14:24Z

Title: Spitting Games
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Jay/Taecyeon
Word Count: ~22,200 (;__;)
Notes: AU. Written for onedaybb, but I honestly have no idea how this happened. Originally I was worried about meeting the 10,000 word deadline, and now… this. This is the longest thing I have written in years and it was fun, and it was exhausting, but it exists and I am both excited and petrified about that fact. Incalculable love to biases, my own cheerleader through this entire process.
Summary: There's a lot to be said for self-delusion when it comes to matters of the heart.

+

Jay sees her and knows immediately that she’s The One. He would never tell anyone he thought such sappy shit, not ever, but she’s so fucking fine that there is no way that she does not belong with him. She's not too tall, she has shiny hair and lips, and she's not even overdone—she's just wearing jeans and a frilly top-thing—but she still looks amazing.

When she smiles Jay can see her teeth gleaming, even in the laser-lit club, but it's when she laughs and looks up that he notices there's a tall guy at next to her, holding her hand. They look cozy, close, and Jay can feel the jealousy working its way through his body, from his chest and then radiating outwards, down to his limbs, spiking at his fingertips, and he kind of wants to—

But then the guy laughs too and turns around, and they are just way too similar-looking not to be related. Her brother, then, or a cousin. Not the competition. Jay feels himself relax, and he grabs Khun's sleeve and wrenches him over, away from the fifty million slutty chicks vying for his attention.

"Who's that?" he asks over the music, gaze never leaving her as the relative twirls her onto the dance floor. "She's got moves."

Khun rolls his eyes, not even making an effort to see who Jay's talking about. He seems focused on some dude dressed in bright yellow dancing in the corner, and Jay would be annoyed if he hadn't just found his future wife. "Which one? You say that every time."

"It's different this time, man," he insists, gawking openly now as she shimmies from side to side, her smooth movements offsetting the brother's stiff shuffle. They spin, the relative's back to Jay, completely blocking his view of her, and he scowls, trying to see around them. "She is fire."

Khun nods and pats him on the head, palm bouncing against Jay's perky fauxhawk. "Of course she is. They always are."

+

When he finally gets to her almost an hour later, slipping between her and some scary dude who thinks vibrating is dancing, she's more than grateful and offers to buy him a drink. He makes her laugh at the bar, and then they talk some and it turns out her name is Jihyen, she's Korean, and as well as being super-hot, she’s also really smart. Even though it makes him feel a little bit like a moron, like when she uses big words and knows what their drink total will be without the use of a calculator, he’s kinda digging the fact that he managed to score such a well-rounded chick.

Well, maybe not scored yet. But it’s only a matter of time.

+

After some severe contemplation, involving a borderline-lewd discussion with his crew and some vigorous alone time, he decides a few days later that the best way to win her over is to get in with the brother. He was a fucking giant when Jay finally saw him up close, with huge teeth and ears to match, super-dorky and kind of touchy, but Jay can’t be picky, not with such high stakes.

He gets Giant Teeth's phone number off Khun, because it so conveniently turns out Khun actually knows him from college, and has just finished dialling when he realises he has no idea about a name—so far he's just been referring to him as Giant Teeth, and Khun has always known exactly who he's talking about. He is about to hang up and call Khun back when he hears a breathless voice say, "Hello?", and then he's stuck.

"Ah. 'Sup?" he says, flustered but trying not to show it, clawing desperately at his cool. "This is Jay. You know, from the club the other night? Khun's friend."

A moment of silence, before, "The... little bitter guy or the even littler one with the moves?"

Jay grits his teeth. "The second one."

"Cool, man, I've never seen anyone dance like you, you were amazing! Even if I did keep losing sight of you in the crowd."

Jay frowns and wonders if he should feel flattered or offended. He settles on a mixture of both and then suddenly realises he's drumming his fingers on the kitchen bench. Frowning, he grabs an apple from the fruit bowl his mom optimistically keeps stocked up and bites into it to distract himself, because feeling nervous about speaking to a dude is one-hundred percent fucking <gay and totally not cool. Even if it is about a girl. "Yeah."

"Okay." There's silence again, awkward and stretching, and Jay rushes to fill it in.

"I just thought… you seemed… I mean, you know. You wanna—" And he cuts himself off. Maybe he should've thought this through a little more, because everything he's saying sounds like he's asking Giant Teeth on some kind of gay-ass date, which is not… it's just not. "Fuck it," he says finally. "I really dig your sister and I don't wanna look like a desperate fucking stalker in front of her so I kinda thought you could… Yeah. You know. Help."

Jay wonders for a brief moment if he's fucked everything up, but then the dude just laughs and he immediately knows everything's gonna be cool.

+

"Nichkhun told me about you," Taecyeon says as soon as Jay sits opposite him in the diner booth the next day. He crosses his arms and narrows his eyes, and Jay freezes mid-grab for the menu, startled by Taecyeon's tone. "That's the only reason I'm doing this. I'm not exactly in the practice of whoring out my sister for random dudes."

"Okay," Jay says. He slowly wraps his fingers around the menu and carefully draws it back towards himself, eyes never leaving Taecyeon's. "That's cool. I don't usually rely on the help of weirdos with huge teeth to score chicks but your sister's kinda an exception."

Jay is again left wondering if he's made a mistake as soon as the words leave his mouth, and they stare at each other for a few moments, the edges of the laminated cardboard biting into his skin. But then Taecyeon's eyes crease and his mouth stretches into a grin, and he laughs, kinda dorky and giggly but endearing all the same, particularly now that Jay knows he isn't going to get punched.

"That's what Khun said you'd say," Taecyeon says, and calls the waitress over.

+

After an hour or so, Jay realises that Taecyeon isn't really that bad. Obviously, he'd rather be spending time with Jihyen, but at least he's working his way there.

He's even discovered that he and Taecyeon—the fuck, that name is too long to even think, so Jay just decides to go with just Taec—have a history of sorts. They've both been Khun's friend for a few years, from different social groups, and they've even been to a few of the same events. In fact—

"I remember you," Taec says ominously, "from Khun's twenty-first."

Jay cringes. Khun's twenty-first birthday party had been a weird night for him, and one that he usually prefers to forget, but obviously Taec, if the smug grin he's failing to suppress is anything to go by, feels exactly the opposite.

"You were the dude who kept losing beer pong and got the stocking like three times!" Taec says, completely abandoning his attempts at a straight face and dissolving into laughter halfway.

Jay doesn't remember it at all, since it was the only time in his life he's ever given into peer pressure and been drunk, but there are a shitload of pictures on the Facebook of everyone at the party of his head squished into that stocking, so it's kinda hard to deny. Khun had told him the next day that it was the best party he'd ever been had. Jay's pounding head and constant vomiting had forced him to disagree, but he'd never been able to shake that legendary status the whole thing had landed him with.

"It was twice," he corrects sharply, "and that wasn't my fault."

"Oh, okay." Taec immediately sobers and nods, and Jay is surprised by how easy it is to intimidate him.

Until he sees the sparkle in Taec's eye, and the quiver of his lips as he holds in more laughter, and realises that he's having absolutely no effect on Taec at all.

"This is a fucking conspiracy," he says. Taec pulls an exaggerated sad face and helps himself to one of Jay's fries, snickering the entire time.

Jay forces himself to remember the curves of Jihyen's body in her jeans so that he doesn't punch her beloved brother in the face.

+

Jay is out jogging with Peatry before b-boy practice when he sees Taec again. Peatry is being particularly annoying, pausing to sniff at every tree and bush in existence, constantly stopping and starting and making it impossible for Jay to get a good rhythm up. He's pretty terrible at jogging anyway—he can dance for hours, but he doesn't have the right kind of cardio training for any sort of decent running time. It's something he occasionally thinks he should do something about, but then someone shows him their new tune or there's a new power move to learn and really, he has priorities.

They're passing their local park-cum-basketball court when Peatry stops for ages at what is apparently a fascinating tree stump. Jay tries to pull him away a million times but he's pretty stubborn for a little guy, so Jay has no choice but to stand around stupidly, waiting for his dog to stop inhaling some other dog's pee.

Thankfully there's a dude playing basketball nearby for entertainment. Jay turns his hat backwards so he can watch properly and tries not to laugh because even though this guy's tall, he's also really fucking failblog.

He's just so… uncoordinated. It's like he has no sense of rhythm, no idea what to do with his massive limbs, performing such jerky movements Jay thinks that he would hate to see what he's like on the dancefloor—and it's that very parallel that makes Jay realize he has.

He has, because it's Taec.

"Shit," he breathes, cringing as Taec takes his fifth shot at the basket from directly underneath it, which not only misses but bounces back to hit him in the shoulder.

Peatry pulls on the lead, finally ready to leave, but Jay directs him over towards Taec instead, intrigued by his terrible playing. He stops a few feet away as Taec gets as close to the hoop as he can, stands on his tiptoes, spends way too long aiming, takes another shot, and still misses.

"Great shot, man," Jay says loudly, and Taec starts, turning around to face Jay as the ball rolls away.

"Jay," he says, surprised but grinning. "You live around here?"

"No, I'm here because it's not my local park."

Taec rolls his eyes. He moves closer and squats in front of Peatry, holding out a hand. Peatry sniffs it and must sense Taec's offensive levels of harmlessness because he rushes forwards, rubbing his body against Taec's legs. Taec laughs. "What's its name?"

"Peatry," Jay says, snickering at the amount of fur his dog is leaving on Taec's pants. "I wanted Homer but my brother's a douche."

"I had a hermit crab when I was thirteen. I wanted to call it Krusty but my sister said it was gross." He looks up from rubbing Peatry's stomach and grimaces. "We called it Princess instead."

"Suits you," Jay teases, and Taec performs some sort of weird, silent mocking laugh that Jay decides to ignore.

"So you come here often?" Taec gives Peatry one last pat and stands.

Jay frowns, because he had forgotten just how irritating their height difference is. "You trying to hit on me?"

"Yeah, I just can't resist you in a hat." Taec waggles his eyebrows and flicks the brim of Jay's cap before turning to go get the ball, which rolled to a stop in front of a nearby tree. Jay follows, but only to leave Peatry in a shady area, tied to a 'NO DOGS' sign. As Taec approaches, Jay sidesteps him and grabs the ball, dashing to the hoop and scoring a layup. He catches the ball as it exits the hoop, turns back to Taec and raises his eyebrows in a challenge.

Taec sighs, and it's obvious that they both know Jay's gonna kick his ass, but it's something Jay's sure they can both live with.

+

It takes no longer than thirty seconds for Jay to realize that Taec is just as shit at one-on-one as he is at around the world. He has the height that should be perfect but he still has no idea what to do or how to play, chasing Jay and flailing awkwardly whenever Jay goes for a basket.

It's not an effective strategy and Jay beats Taec eleven baskets to one, which Jay only let him have because he felt kinda sorry for him.

"Why are you even here?" Jay puffs, stealing Taec's water bottle and pouring half of it into his mouth.

Taec looks confused, waiting for Jay to return his bottle before finishing it off and squinting at him. "What?

"Dude, for real, you suck at this." He gestures to the basketball hoop behind them and bends over, hands on his knees, trying to regulate his breathing. Although it was an easy win it's been a while since he's had an opponent, and showing off always tires him out quicker.

"Which would be why I'm practicing," Taec points out, but Jay doesn't answer, still just breathing. It was probably a bad idea exercising so much when he has b-boy practice, too, but—

"Oh shit," he says suddenly, jerking up.

B-boy practice.

+

"Jay, what the hell, man?" Dial Tone calls out.

Jay hurries through the door, dropping his backpack and joining his crew on the floor, more late than ever since he almost forgot about Peatry and had to take him home, too. "Sorry guys," he says, immediately going into a set of stretches. "I had a thing."

"A thing?" Junior sounds skeptical as he spots Cha Cha's handstand on the other side of the mat. "You for real?"

"Yeah, man, where've you been? We've been waiting. Waiting and pining." Dial Tone moves over to help Jay out, pulling on his foot, and Jay hesitates before saying anything more.

Normally he would just tell them, because fuck, they know too much about each other already, but he just knows that as soon as he even mentions Taec they're gonna start ragging on him.

At least, that's what he would do.

"I dunno, it was just a thing," he says evasively, and it's a bad move because he sees Dial Tone and Junior exchange looks, Junior letting Cha Cha's feet go and moving closer. "Stop fucking looking at each other, okay? It's nothing, it's just this dude," Jay adds, but realises his first instinct was right when Dial Tone immediately starts cooing, making a love heart with his arm and Junior's. Even Cha Cha is fluttering his eyelashes obnoxiously, and Jay knows that there isn't even a point trying to explain about Jihyen, because with the mood they're in, it's not worth it. Fuck it, it's their loss. They can find out about Jihyen when he brings her to practice and she cheers for him and they fucking drool with jealousy. "We just played some ball, no biggie," he continues nonchalantly, and Dial Tone's eyes widen, his lips forming an impressive pout.

"I thought," he sniffles, "I thought we were your ballers," he says, voice wavering, and Junior snorts loudly.

"You guys are too fucking homo to be my ballers." He throws the closest water bottle at them, and they duck in just enough time.

"You were late because you were meeting some random guy. Who is more homo in this scenario?" Cha Cha points out, and Jay, having no more projectiles nearby, just flips him the bird.

"Seriously, though," Junior pushes, "you were late because of a 'thing', with a 'dude'. That sounds kinda shady."

Dial Tone nods. "Real shady."

"Slim Shady," Junior adds, and they burst into laughter and do their weird handshake-and-chest bump thing.

Jay glares at them. He really should catch on when the Orduna brothers are playing with him, but it's sometimes hard to tell when they double-team him like this.

"Fuck you," Jay says eloquently, kicking out at Dial Tone and turning away before he does anything worse to them, only to see Cha Cha slowly drawing his tongue over his bottom lip in the most disgusting way Jay has ever seen. Jay stares until he eventually stops.

"What?" Cha Cha says, frowning and wiping his mouth with his popped collar. "Too much?"

+

When Jay opens his front door to the insistent ringing of the bell a few days later, he's expecting it to be Mr Weston complaining about Peatry digging up his flowers again and is therefore more than slightly surprised to see Taec instead.

"The fuck," Jay says, blinking. "How do you even know where I live?"

Taec grins. "I got connections."

"Khun doesn't count," Jay tells him, but he just shrugs. "So," Jay adds, angling his body to take up as much room as possible as Taec tries to look inside his house, "wassup?"

"Not much."

"Okay," Jay says, and waits for Taec to continue. And waits some more. When it becomes obvious he isn't going to, Jay shrugs and moves to shut the door. He has things to do today, like play the new Assassin's Creed. Or re-style his hair. Or organize his shoes. Or watch b-boy videos on YouTube. Whatever the future holds for him, it does not involve being bugged by someone who's so terrible at basketball.

"Wait!" Taec sticks his gigantic foot over the threshold and Jay opens the door again, trying to keep his annoyance in check.

"Yes?"

"Jihyen's home today. All day. And it's hot. So she'll be wearing girl clothes."

Jay grins, both tempted by the thought and amused by Taec's awkwardness. "Instead of what, boy clothes? Your clothes? Your dad's clothes?"

"Dude come on, she's my sister. I'm all for you two finding true love and all but there's some things I don't really wanna think about. The point is, she'll be there." He turns away and starts down Jay's front steps.

"And you came all the way here to tell me that," Jay calls dubiously. Sure, he doesn't know Taec that well yet, but he's pretty sure showing up in person like this is weird, especially since cell phones were invented like ten years ago.

"Why not?" he says over his shoulder. "I can give you a lift in my sweet ride." He twirls his keys around his fingers and poses proudly next to an old beat-up Ford sedan.

"That's not a sweet ride," Jay says, finally leaving the sanctuary of his doorway. He moves closer, noticing the obvious rust on the underside, the lack of handle on the back door and crappy tread on the tyres. "It's a ride, but I wouldn't call it a sweet one."

"Hey," Taec says, pouting, "you wanna come or not?"

Jay takes a moment to look from Taec's car and back to his house, where his brother Jehan has appeared in the window and is sucking kissy-faces into the glass, like twenty years separate them and not two. He moves around to the passenger side.

"I'm picking the radio station," he says, and Taec lets him.

+

The trip to Taec's house is short, uneventful and mercifully quiet except for Taec's soft humming along with the radio. When they arrive it is to find two people sitting outside, perched against the fence. One of them is on his phone, the other just staring into space, and as Taec pulls up Jay sees that phone guy is Khun. Jay is immediately suspicious, shooting Taec a questioning look, but Taec ignores him.

"Oh look! Khun is here," he says instead, sounding completely rehearsed and insincere, getting out of the car before Jay can question him further. Jay clambers out and fist-bumps Khun and is just about to ask Taec what the hell is going on when Taec says, "And oh! Chansung is also here!" He performs a big hand gesture and points at the other guy, whose eyes widen.

"Why are you talking like that?" he asks.

"Never you mind, Chansungie," Taec says, still speaking in that ridiculous voice, smacking Chansung hard on the ass, but Khun steps forward and pulls Chansung away.

"That's his lying voice," Khun informs them, narrowing his eyes. "He used it on our TA last week."

Taec looks vaguely panicked. "What? Khunnie, come on—"

"What are you planning, Taecyeon?" Khun interrupts, hands on hips, and Jay would be laughing at how much he sounds like a mom if he didn't want to know the very same thing.

Taec busies himself with picking at his own fingernails. "Welllll," he says, "it's possible that I accidentally broke a window the other day, and since I am merely poor student with no employment, I have to pay my parents back somehow."

"How? By lying to your closest friends?" Khun asks, pouting.

"Nope. All we have to do is clean up the garage, and hey presto, my mom loves me again!" He finally looks up and grins widely. Jay, not for the first time and probably nowhere near the last, wants to punch him in the mouth.

He sighs instead, because now that it's obvious that Taec manipulated them all the odds that he might actually see his Soulmate today are very low. "Jihyen's not here, is she?"

"I think I saw her leave a few minutes before you got here," Chansung supplies helpfully.

"Which means she'll be back!" Taec slaps Jay heartily on the back, sounding way too cheerful for a huge hulking lying liar, before turning and opening the garage door with a flourish. "Ta da!"

As soon as the door's all the way up and enough light filters in to illuminate the space, Chansung lets out a disbelieving laugh, Khun physically recoils, and Jay just stares.

There is not one inch of spare space. The entire floor is covered in boxes stacked to the ceiling, some of them ripped and half-eaten by mice and all of them covered in cobwebs. There's a few pieces of furniture in the corner, but they're gross too and are covered in god-knows-what and it stinks.

It's one of the most disgusting things Jay's ever witnessed—overshadowed only by the time when Peatry rolled in something nasty at the park and he had to clean it up, and the time he accidentally walked in on his parents fucking in the kitchen pantry—and if they all don't get a fatal disease and cause a widespread epidemic, he'll be super surprised.

+

They go slowly at first, not even knowing where to start, but soon enough they all find a role that works for them and end up working well together. Taec should really be in charge since it's his house, but he has no idea how to clean anything and just lets Jay take charge. They all do, actually, but they seem to need someone to keep them on track so Jay doesn't really mind doing it. He puts Taec in charge of lifting because he's strong, Khun in charge of sorting because he's patient, and Chansung in charge of fetching because he seems eager to please, and it all runs pretty smoothly.

"Hey," Chansung says after a several long hours, hanging off Taec's arm and pulling on his massive ears, "I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry," Khun says, sounding tired as he eyes one of the half-disintegrated boxes he's left till last.

"You know what guys, it's cool, I think I got it from here," Taec says, throwing an arm around Chansung and pulling him closer. "Thanks for your help."

"Yeah, well, we didn't have much of a choice," Khun says, so passive-aggressive that Jay can't help rolling his eyes.

"Yes you did," Taec says firmly. "And I'm sorry I lied to you. If it helps, my mom really is sick, I really will buy you lunch, and Jihyen really is wearing a short skirt." Taec looks at each of them in turn, finishing with Jay who immediately feels uneasy under Taec's intense gaze.

He's never been good with this sentimental shit and he turns away to hide his discomfort. "Yeah, well you're buying our food. All of it," he insists, remembering that he has no money because he spent it all on a new pair of kicks. "And I'm not eating anything unless it's a burger."

+

After an argument with Taec leads to a violent game of rock-paper-scissors, Jay and Chansung end up being the ones to trudge to the end of Taec's street to get the burgers, even though Taec is the one with the car.

"He's such a dick," Jay rages, kicking a stone along the pavement. It deflects off a fence and flies directly into Chansung's shin, and Jay cringes. "Shit, sorry!"

Chansung frowns and bends down to rub his leg. "Thanks," he says sadly, and Jay feels even worse.

"I said sorry! Okay, just… order whatever you want, alright? Most expensive burger there is, it's yours," he says desperately.

"Really?"

Jay nods. "It's on Taec."

Chansung brightens and pushes at Jay's shoulder playfully as he straightens up. Jay goes flying forwards, because fuck is this kid strong, but he makes it look like it's what he meant to happen and jams his hands into his pockets, sauntering on. Chansung easily catches up with him and they walk a little in silence but Jay's curiosity gets the better of him.

"How do you know Taec, anyway?" he asks.

Chansung plucks a leaf from an overhanging tree and begins to tear it into strips. "We rap together sometimes."

Jay's entire body jerks to a stop, and he sputters. "Taec raps? Taec?" As in Taec, his dorky Taec, Taec who has no sense of rhythm Taec?

"He's good," Chansung says, looking back and grinning. "Girls love his voice."

Jay takes another moment to process this, before making a serious mental note to make Taec rap for him one day, because he is sure it will be one of the most hilarious things he's ever seen. It's amusing him enough just thinking about it, so much so that he completely tunes out of the conversation imagining it, only getting jolted back in when Chansung claps his hand down on his shoulder.

"Jay?" Chansung is saying, looking at him expectantly.

"Uh, what?"

"What about you? How do you know Taec?"

Jay pauses. He's never really thought about what to say if someone questions their friendship, but it's pretty obvious that if he says oh I'm just putting up with him while I make the moves on his sister he'll come off as a gigantic asshole.

But how do you say that in a nice way?

"His sister's hot," he says finally, beginning to walk again, letting Chansung take that however he wants.

Chansung frowns. "Really? I never noticed."

"Probably because she's never worn a meat dress," Jay shoots back, and Chansung laughs and shoves him again. Jay goes flying once more but he stumbles to a stop directly in front of the burger place so he doesn't bother to complain.

+

They're sprawled across Taec's lounge room furniture, stuffed full and exhausted and watching a Simpsons rerun when Jihyen comes home. Taec is dozing sitting up on the couch, Chansung is spacing out next to him, chewing lethargically on a banana, and Khun is spread across their thighs, head in Taec's lap and feet dangling over Chansung's armrest. Jay chose to separate himself from their threesome right from the beginning, sitting closest to the door in an armchair on Taec's other side, and he's trying to keep himself alert for when Jihyen gets back—which, of course, is the only reason he accepted Taec's offer in the first place—but he keeps drifting off, and when she does finally step into the room, laden with shopping bags, he misses it completely.

They all do actually, and it takes her loudly clearing her throat to get their attention. Taec doesn’t even open his eyes as he lets out a grunt, and the others look at her very briefly before turning back to the TV, but Jay panics and hurries to sit up, running a hand through his sweaty hair and turning on his best woo-the-ladies smile in the hope that it'll distract her from his sweaty grossness.

Jihyen blinks. "Hey Khun, hey Chan," she says. They wave tiredly. "Hey… other guy."

"Ugh," Taec says, after Khun pokes him insistently in the side, and he gestures vaguely in Jay's direction, "this is Jay. You've met."

"All true," Jay says, totally charming, rubbing his palms on the arms of the chair to dry them. It sucks that she doesn't remember him but he'd made a pretty good first impression and that's gotta count for something.

She tilts her head and looks at him. He tries not to be dazzled by her shiny earrings. Or her low neckline. "Oh," she says finally, eyes lighting up with recognition, "from the club, right?"

Jay nods. "Chyeah, you know, that's right." There's a few moments of silence and, feeling nervous, like he's being judged by the others, he suddenly jumps up and sticks out his hand for her to shake.

Which is the wrong move, since her hands are full of bags. She raises an eyebrow.

"Sorry," he says, shaking his head, "I mean, can I help with those?"

"I'm fine. You guys just go back to watching," she cranes her head to see the TV, and wrinkles her nose as Bart moons Mr Burns, "your stupid cartoons."

Taec wakes up fully at that, glaring after her as she leaves. "Hey, this is the most relevant and accessible social commentary produced since The Three Stooges," he calls, and her laughter trails down the hallway behind her until it's muffled by her bedroom door shutting and then the only sounds are Chansung and Homer's loud chewing.

Jay is still awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, not quite sure what just happened, and Taec looks at him and shrugs.

"What can I do, man? She's a free spirit."

Jay is suddenly hit by the realization that this may not be as easy as he'd thought.

+

Jay stays long after everyone else leaves, loitering around Taec's house in the hope that Jihyen will emerge from her room. She doesn't.

Still, though, Taec's company is preferable to his brother's, so he sticks around, even when Taec leaves for a little while to run an errand.

Taec very bravely leaves Jay in his room, probably because it's where he thinks he'll cause the least trouble, and Jay starts off trying to entertain himself by playing on his Wii. He gets bored within half an hour though, the joy found in screwing up all Taec's statistics only lasting so long, and gives up in favour of exploring Taec's room.

It's surprisingly tidy for someone like Taec, particularly after having seen his garage. There's no mess anywhere, although Jay can see the marks on the floor that indicate he's only vacuumed around furniture and not under it. He supposes it's a wonder that Taec even vacuumed at all.

And then Jay slides open one of the closet doors and finds where everything is. Obviously Taec's idea of cleaning is shoving everything out of sight—which is, upon second thought, pretty consistent with what Jay has learned about the Oks so far. Eyebrows raised, Jay skims over boxes messily marked 'Star Wars figures' and 'DBZ videos' and a horrific pile of unnecessarily bright laundry on the lowest level, only to have his attention caught by a folder labeled 'Yearbooks'.

Jay grins.

He eagerly yanks the folder out, ignoring the stack of papers that flies to floor in its wake, and takes it over to Taec's bed, sprawling on it and opening the folder from the back. It's Taec's yearbook from senior year, and Jay's grin widens. Oh, this should be good.

He flicks through the pages, searching for Taec's face or even his name, and he almost misses it, but then he sees one very familiar protruding ear, and—

Jay stares in horror. Right at the front of the photo, the one completely occupied by nerds, the one with the heading 'Chess Club', is teenaged Taec wearing big glasses and clothes that look even stupider than the ones he wears now.

He immediately bursts into laughter. He laughs for ages, for so long his eyes start to water, and every time he thinks he's done, he looks at the photo and starts up again. It only gets worse when he turns the page to find him in the Jazz Club, too, not even looking at the camera for some reason, his hair even more terrible than it was in the Chess picture.

The last picture he finds is the least incriminating, of Taec on the soccer team, and Jay is just laughing at their terrible uniform and how Taec looks like a criminal when—

"He can't actually play, you know," he hears suddenly, from very close, too close, and it surprises him so much he nearly falls off the bed.

"Shit!" he curses, as he kicks himself in the leg.

"Sorry, I thought you heard me come in," Jihyen says mildly, perching next to him, crossing her legs. The skirt she's wearing inches up her thighs and Jay clears his throat.

"No, it's cool, you know, I'm good. I mean. Yeah." He sits upright and swings his legs over the edge, sitting next to her, not so close as to scare her away but close enough that he can feel her body heat.

"He's so different now," she muses, leaning closer to Jay, running her finger over the picture of Taec. "It was so easy to just dismiss him before, but now…" She pulls back abruptly and Jay immediately feels bereft. "He's grown up so much in the past few years, it's hard to keep up. He makes me feel old."

Jay snorts. "You definitely don't look it."

She raises an eyebrow and he shrugs, unapologetic and making her laugh. "Thanks. It's just, I don't know. I mean… Does he have a girlfriend?" she asks abruptly, and Jay blinks.

"I dunno, I haven't really known him long enough," he admits. Taec's never talked about a girl before, but they're not really that close so it's not all that surprising. "I don't think so?"

"Huh," she says, leaning back on her palms, and Jay works not to be too distracted by her shirt as it rides up. "He hasn't had one in a while."

"He hasn't had a chick?" Jay asks, surprised, because he'd have thought that girls would love someone as tall as Taec.

"I don't know why. He's smart and he's funny—"

"He's cheesy and lame, he has really whack fashion sense, he's terrible at sports…" Jay continues, and she laughs again.

"Okay, okay, those too." They're silent for a moment. Jay's kinda thrown off his game since they just spent so long talking about Taec, but he's just about to pitch another topic when she stands up, smoothing down her skirt. "I should go. Nice to see you again, Jay." She smiles at him and he tries to remember how to smile back, watching her as she leaves.

She's perfect. She's so fucking hot and god, Jay really can't believe they spent the entire time talking about Taec. He is what they have in common, so it's probably not really that weird, but still.

At least he has more of an in now, which is good. And not only that, but she called him by his name, and smiled, and flirted, so really there's a lot more good than bad.

"Fucking yes," he breathes, deciding to leave on a good note and tossing Taec's yearbook back into the folder before shoving it back into the closet. Crossing to Taec's desk, he grabs a pen and a random piece of paper and leaves Taec a message.

Bball, he scribbles. Tuesday mournin. Mybe I can teech u sumthing. Payce.

PS. u ever mention chess round me and Ill cut u

+

"You have a tattoo," Taec says as Jay reaches for the bottle of water. The sun had come out halfway through their game and Jay had shed his t-shirt, never one to miss an opportunity to show off his abs. Taec, obviously not confident enough in his body to do the same, had simply rolled the legs of his pants up to reveal some way hairy legs—which Jay had, of course, given him shit for.

It must be the first time Taec's ever seen him shirtless because he's had this tattoo for a while now, since he graduated and was freed from the rules and regulations of his shitty high school. His uncle doesn't care, either, as long as Jay turns up to work on time and changes the tyres he's supposed to, so he's even considering getting another one.

"What does it say?" Taec asks, leaning in so close Jay can feel his breath against his collarbone. It feels weird but Taec doesn't give him an opportunity to complain, just tilts Jay's whole body out of the shadow created by the backboard in the midday sun, and mouths the words as he reads. "What are those numbers?"

"They're predictions of the future," Jay says, struggling to keep a straight face, swigging the remainder of the water. "In those years in the future, some crazy shit is gonna go down." Taec looks up at him, thoroughly confused, and Jay laughs and shoves at him, collapsing back onto the ground. "You fuckhead, they're the years my family was born."

"Aww," Taec teases, lowering himself down next to Jay, "that's so sweet. A mom-approved tattoo."

"I got one, don’t I?"

"Hey, I could get one if I wanted."

Jay snorts. He can practically feel Taec pouting. And lying.

"I could! If I really wanted to, I could. But I don't, so that voids this entire conversation, and I refuse to think I am any less of a man because of it." He pauses. "But the point is, I could."

"Yeah, okay Angelina Jolie, I get it," Jay laughs, elbowing him hard in the ribs. Taec retaliates and they descend into silence.

Time's slowly getting on and he should really get home soon, because he promised Jehan he'd bring pizza for lunch, and the moron's already called five times to remind him. The tarmac isn't all that comfortable, either, and a decent-sized stone is digging right into his lower back, but he ignores it, lulled by Taec's steady breathing beside him.

"If I was gonna get a tattoo," Taec says quietly a few minutes later, right when Jay is beginning to feel super-sleepy, "I'd get a cat."

"A cat," Jay says flatly. He can't be fucking serious. "Where?"

"My ass."

Jay punches him on the arm.

+

Jay has no idea how, but Taec somehow manages to time his calls so that they are as inconvenient for Jay as possible. The first time, Jay is in the bathroom. The second time, the shower. The third time, an undisclosed location participating in undisclosed acts, and so on.

When he calls this time Jay is in the middle of a routine with Cha Cha, and Junior, who's supposed to be videotaping them, answers for him. Jay keeps an eye on him through the mirror and immediately doesn't like the way Junior's grin broadens, or the way he looks so slyly at Jay. Thankfully the song finishes quickly and Jay hurries over and grabs for his phone, but Junior is a little shit and tries to keep it away from him, leaving Jay with no choice but to use force.

"Is that guy okay?" Taec asks as soon as Jay wrestles the phone from Junior and grunts a greeting.

"He's just a little retarded," Jay pants. "It's not his fault, he was dropped on his head as a kid. A lot." Junior flips him the bird and takes his place on the floor.

"So anyway, I spoke to Jihyen," Taec says animatedly, but Jay knows him well enough by now to realise that could mean anything. He signals to Cha Cha that he's leaving, ignoring Junior's catcalls and shoving him over as he passes.

"Break it down," he says, stepping outside and leaning against the wall. It's uncharacteristically warm, the balmy breeze doing nothing to soothe his sweat-soaked skin, and he realises way too late that he should have grabbed his water bottle before coming out.

"Not much to break down, man, she just told me to text you her phone number and you guys can go from there."

"Really?" Jay frowns. Someone of Jihyen's calibre, he would have expected it to be harder. "That's all she said?"

"Yes."

"Taec, if you're fucking with me—"

"I'm not, that's what she said! Don't tell me you're doubting your Jayness…"

"I'm not doubting, there's nothing to doubt," he snaps. But still. This almost feels like she gave in too easily. Girls like her supposed to play hard to get. What if this is a trap?

He's about to say as much but someone yells something on the other end, asking Taec a question, and Taec fades out as he answers them.

"Who is that?" Jay asks, suddenly distracted, straining to hear, and Taec laughs distantly before his voice gets closer.

"Chansung and I are playing Starcraft. He just—Junho, what the hell, we're supposed to be working together!" More voices, more laughter.

"Okay," Jay says dully and briefly wonders why Taec didn't invite him. His technofail is pretty widely known, and Taec probably just thought he wouldn't be interested but it would've been nice to be asked. "Guess I'll see you nerds later, then."

"Oh, Jay, wait," Taec calls loudly, just as Jay's about to hang up, "she likes flowers."

Jay's mind goes blank for a moment before he remembers who Taec's referring to. "What kind?"

"What?" Taec says, sounding distracted, and Jay tamps down on his frustration.

"Flowers, what kind? There's more than one."

Taec laughs. "I dunno, man, go with your gut. Annyeong!" He hangs up.

When Jay goes back inside, Junior is still snickering. This time Jay trips him right in the middle of his baby mill.

+

>

+ Spitting Games [2/3] [2PM]

2011-02-02T12:13:15Z

<

+

Jihyen is an attractive mix of cute and sexy in their texts, flirty without being slutty, and Jay is ecstatic. After a few days of round-robin messaging, when he's almost positive she won't decline, he finally forces himself to ask her out—and she says yes.

why r u so surprised man, Taec asks when Jay sends him a carefully excited text, ur fly!! ^^

Jay grins and immediately texts Jihyen again, suggesting a movie. She agrees and he balks a little when she tells him her choice of film, but then he remembers—they'll be in the dark, close enough to touch. He probably won't be able to concentrate much on the movie, anyway.

+

"No," Jay says, backing away as soon as he sees Taec coming towards him, "fuck off. No."

"Sorry, man." Taec moves closer and reaches out, patting Jay's upper arm apologetically. "She couldn't make it, had a last-minute emergency. She says to tell you sorry."

"Yeah, that makes it less fucked up, thanks," he says grumpily. He stalks over to the already-overflowing trash can in front of the theatre entrance and dumps the chrysanthemumumums or whatever the shit on top. "Why're you here, anyway? Why didn't she just call instead of sending her fucking gofer?" Taec frowns at the insult, and Jay knows he's just lashing out and being an immature dick, but he's honestly too upset to care. Who sends their fucking brother to ditch their date?

Taec pauses. "It'd be rude to just leave you here," he says, and then nudges Jay in the arm, suddenly looking hopeful. "Plus, we're friends, right? Why don't we do something, instead? I have a ten-page essay due tomorrow that I haven't started, but other than that I'm completely free." He moves over to pluck the topmost chrys-thingy out, tucks it behind his satellite dish-ear, and turns to Jay, framing his face with his palms. "Do what you will with me."

He looks so fucking stupid that Jay can't help his sudden laugh, and he almost hates that Taec won't let him sulk, but then Taec grins back and Jay thinks—fuck it. Taec is never bad company, and even if he's not Jay's first choice, it was cool of him to not ditch Jay in public.

He pretends to stay annoyed though, glaring at Taec and yanking the flower off him, sticking it behind his own ear and grabbing Taec's wrist to drag him inside. "Just so you know," he says warningly, over his shoulder, "she picked the movie."

Taec's anguished expression is priceless.

+

The next Twilight movie is, it turns out, even shittier than the last one—not that Jay watched it. They stay as long as they can but still end up fleeing three-quarters of the way through, escaping before it gets any worse. Taec mentions getting something to eat and Jay agrees to stay with him, not quite willing to go home yet, still recuperating from the trauma of over an hour of whining girls and sparkling vampires.

They make their way steadily through the shopping complex until finally their ambling seems to lead them somewhere useful and they stop at some sushi place to join the giant queue. They're quiet for a few moments and even though they both vowed never to admit to even seeing the trailer for it, Jay figures it's safe enough to bring up now, as long as they don't mention any names.

"I just can't believe Khun liked that shit," he says, disgusted.

"I don't get why he doesn't just fuck her," Taec says loudly, and the Asian dude in front of them turns to give him an amused look, his glasses glinting and his large mouth twisting rather scarily. Taec just grins until he turns back. "I mean, I guess I do get it," he adds, "because if he'd just had sex with her in the first place then there wouldn't have been any need for the other installments, but seriously, no dude is that strong."

"I dunno, man," Jay says slowly, because even though it makes him want to blow his brains out that they're talking about this, his mom brought him up well and he can kinda see where the movie's coming from. "Wasn't he supposed to be all gentlemanly and shit? Born, like, last century?"

"Jay, we were born last century," Taec says, laughing.

Jay glares, shoving at Taec as they move up in the line. "You know what I mean."

"I do. I just think—if you want someone, go get them." He turns to Jay, looking way too serious to still be discussing Edwin Coven or whoever the shit, and Jay suddenly feels extremely uncomfortable. "Although I guess there is that added layer of complexity in that he's a vampire." He grins suddenly. "Like love needs to be any more complicated."

Jay just stares at him, privately wondering if Taec is more than a little cray-cray, because he could've sworn they were just talking about a stupid chick-flick. "Dude," he says, "stop fucking squealing about that stupid fucking film and order your fucking food."

"Oh, right." Taec fumbles for his wallet in his back pocket. "Want anything?"

Jay shakes his head, patting his stomach. "After eight pm, man. Maybe if you said no to food once in a while you'd start looking like a man instead of a geek."

Taec rolls his eyes, picking and paying in under a minute and then steering Jay towards a table an old couple is just vacating. The man helps the little old lady with her walking stick and Taec watches, his eyes practically shaped like fucking hearts as they hold hands and shuffle away.

"Oh man, you are seriously pathetic," Jay says, rolling his eyes.

Taec looks hurt as they sit, already shoving half of his California roll into his mouth. "What about you? The only reason you're hanging out with me is because you want my sister."

Jay punches him in the arm, about to retaliate verbally, but instead finds himself asking, "Why are you helping me, then, if I'm such a loser?"

"Birds of a feather?" he suggests, grinning again before inhaling the other half of his food. He sobers suddenly and leans back in his seat, playing with his unused serviette. "Jihyen liked you."

Jay blinks for a moment, absorbing this information, his thoughts rapidly careening from seriously? to fuck yes! and then wait, liked? before he says slowly, "Liked as in past tense?"

"I don't know," Taec says earnestly, finally looking up. "I just know what she told me the day after the club. She thought you were hot."

Jay feels the grin spreading across his face and embraces it, crossing his arms, preening a little. "I am so fucking in!"

"Except," Taec says, and he seems a strange mixture of both uneasy and amused, "she also thought you were gay."

Jay stares, feeling every ounce of joy disappears in an instant. Because. What. What the fuck.

What. The fuck.

He's quiet for a while, and it's obviously long enough for Taec to become concerned because he leans forward to say something but Jay grabs his collar instead, wrenching him closer, not caring at all if he hurts Taec in the process.

"What the fuck," he hisses, and Taec cringes as some of his spit lands on his cheek. "Fucking gay? Are you fucking kidding me? I'm like the least fucking… I'm the most opposite from gay on this entire planet!"

"Believe me, Jay, I know," Taec says, gently removing Jay's fingers from his shirt. "I told her that, I made sure she knows, and that's why she agreed to go out with you."

"Yeah, because that turned out so fucking well," he mutters, slumping over the table, pressing his cheek to the smooth marble surface. Just… him? Gay? Fucking fuckity fuck.

"Hey," he hears Taec say, but he doesn't answer and just closes his eyes, feeling weirdly embarrassed and awkward.

Does this mean he acts gay? If someone saw him on the street, would they think he was gay? Would the casual observer think he and Taec were on a date right now?

"Hey," Taec says again, and this time his tone of voice means Jay does look up. "I know you're disappointed and everything, but don't worry, okay? I'll organize something awesome for this weekend, and it'll all be great, you'll see." He grins widely, trying to encourage Jay to do the same.

Jay collapses back onto the table.

+

It takes Jay at least an hour to get over his depression, but he is grateful for Taec, who pulls out all the stops to entertain him. He makes bad jokes, does stupid impressions and plays DDR, dancing outrageously to Lady Gaga with a thirteen-year-old girl who triples his score. By the end of the night Jay feels much more optimistic.

Taec even drives him home, playing too-loud gangsta music that they jam to the entire time, Taec's crappy car shaking from both their jostling and the strain on the speakers. Jay turns down the music as soon as they reach his street, unwilling to bear the inevitable complaints from his neighbours.

Taec parks and they're quiet for a moment, Taec letting Jay take his time, and Jay, yet again, is thankful. In retrospect, he figures that a chick thinking he's gay isn't really that big a deal, but he's still really into her so it's a bit of a downer to realize he isn't as far along in the wooing process as he'd thought.

"Hey," Taec says finally, elbowing him gently, "it's all good, right? Just keep Saturday free."

Jay nods and they bump fists before Jay climbs out, Taec starts the car again and his music comes back on, one song ending and another starting. As a special reward for all the things Taec has done for him so far, Jay pretends not to recognise the beginning strains of Justin Bieber.

+

Jay is barely dressed when there's a knock at the door a few days later and he opens it in only his basketball short. He's once again surprised to find Taec, his suit on the complete other end of the style spectrum and making Jay completely forget what number sit-up he was up to.

Taec gives him a once-over and raises his eyebrows. "Well. You'd certainly be making a statement, but do you really want every woman in the vicinity to jump you before you even get in the car?"

Jay frowns. Taec is either drunk or high, but whatever the substance abuse Jay is unsure if he's comfortable with Taec getting himself home. "What the fuck," he says, careful not to let any of his worry seep into his tone, "are you talking about?"

"It's Saturday."

"And I'm Jay. Seriously man, for real. Come on." He leans in closer, cupping his hand over his mouth, whispering, "Are you high?"

Taec stares at him for a few moments before his posture relaxes and he sighs. "You forgot, didn't you?"

"Taec, if you don't start speaking straight I won't hesitate to punch you in the face," Jay says. He hates when people act like this, because it's like they're laughing at him and then he just feels slow and stupid, like he can't hope to match up. Like he's not good enough, even when he knows that he is, and that they're just being a douche.

"Our date," is all Taec says, and Jay wonders if he should wind up before punching because if Taec's thinking they're gonna be doing anything tonight then he seriously needs—

But then Taec shifts aside and Jay spots two girls waiting in his car in the driveway and one of them is Jihyen.

Oh shit, Jay thinks, and his expression must say the same thing because Taec rolls his eyes and pushes him backwards, prodding him down the hall and into his room.

"Just get dressed, and I'll go out and tell them I told you the wrong time, okay? I'll save your ass. Again." He drapes an arm around Jay's neck, the stiff fabric of his suit jacket rough against Jay's sweaty skin, and opens up the closet. He reaches in, but Jay finally comes to his senses and bats his hands away.

"Like I'd trust your fashion sense," he snaps, shoving Taec off him, who pulls away and pouts, looking down at himself.

"Hey, I look okay now, right?"

Jay's already noticed, maybe a little jealously, the way the suit fits him, enhancing the broadness of his shoulders, the lean lines of his pants making his legs look even longer. With his hair styled decently for once, and a crisp white shirt underneath the jacket, he looks a lot older and better looking than he actually is.

Jay is positive that he can't have done it by himself.

"How much of that was you and how much was Jihyen?" he asks, and Taec looks sheepish. "Exactly. Now fuck off while I get changed." Taec shakes his head, making to leave, but then Jay feels bad and adds, "Thanks, man. And sorry."

"If you didn't forget dates then you wouldn't be Jay," he says, looking fond before suddenly grinning, darting in to pinch Jay's nipple, and then hollering, "Don't forget a bra!" as he dashes away.

Jay yelps—it's a delayed reaction but it still hurts—and rubs his chest as he glares after him.

+

In the car Taec asks everyone if they're hungry and even though Jay's only had one saucepan of Cheerios all day, the girls say no so he'll just have to tough it out.

They end up back at the club where the three of them first met, and Jay is privately struck by the thought that Taec is a genius. Jay made a great impression here and if he can just get some of that cred back, if he can connect with Jihyen like he did last time, then he is quite certain that he'll have it in the bag.

An hour later, though, everything is not going to plan and Jay is alone in the men's bathroom wondering what went wrong.

Jihyen has been distant all night—quiet in the car, distracted in line for club, and downright ignoring him in the club itself in favour of her phone. He'd paid to put her stuff in the cloakroom, bought her drinks, danced with her—even making sure he wasn't too good so she didn't feel bad—but nothing worked and Jay has begun to get the distinct feeling that she's not interested. It sucks ass, especially since he's so fucking hungry, and he has no idea where to go from here.

Taec's date with Jihyen's friend Sun doesn't seem to be going that great either. Sun seems to be drinking a hell of a lot for someone of her size, but then maybe they're having fun and he just can't see it because his own night has been so average.

Jay shakes his head, turns off the tap and leans on the sink to stare at his reflection when Taec suddenly appears in the mirror next to him. His smile is lopsided but it's the only thing that is, and Jay suddenly remembers some fact his mom was telling him from her ladies' magazine the other day, something about people being most attracted to symmetrical faces.

At the time he'd pretended it was all shit, but after a few days he'd blackmailed Jehan into teaching him how to mirror an image in Photoshop and discovered that his own features were slightly wonky. He's pissed to notice that Taec's features, although gigantic, are pretty perfect.

"You okay?" Taec asks, moving closer. He looks concerned and Jay nods.

"What else would I be?" he says, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Sorry," Taec says, and Jay frowns, holding his gaze through the mirror.

"What?"

"About my sister. She's being weird."

"Why are you apologizing? It's not your problem."

"I know."

Taec looks down and Jay finally steps back from the sinks, scraping his hands down the front of his shirt to dry them since the hand dryer is out of order.

"Where's your date, anyway, man?" he says, taking the opportunity to elbow Taec in the ribs. "Not gonna lie, she's pretty hot." He pushes the door open and they head back into the club proper. The music hits him all at once, reverberating through his bones and pounding in his brain, and with his stomach growling almost in time to the beat he directs Taec over to the bar so he can buy a drink.

"She's hot," Taec agrees, yelling in his ear, breath skimming over Jay's skin, "but I'm pretty sure she's busy making out with that guy over there." He points over Jay's shoulder before using his ridiculous height to get the bartender's attention and ordering Jay's lemonade. Jay follows the line of Taec's finger and wrinkles his nose when he sees Sun grinding drunkenly against some tiny white guy.

"Damn, how is she that crunk already?"

"I dunno, but she already told me earlier she likes short guys. And that she would've gone for you if you weren't already with my sister." Taec pays the bartender and hands Jay his drink, nudging him sideways a bit, out of the crowd around the bar.

"Oh." Jay frowns, downing most of it one go. He should probably be feeling pretty good right about now, because how the fuck often does this happen, but he doesn't really know what to feel and settles for clapping Taec on the back. He keeps his palm there a little longer than usual to show his support and passes Taec what's left of his lemonade. "Fuck it," he says, gesturing around them at the crowd of people, "there are other girls, right?"

Taec looks down at him, something weird in his eyes that Jay figures must be embarrassment ar having his pride wounded so publically, and nods. "Right."

They turn back in time to see the train wreck that is Sun stumble over to another unsuspecting guy and launch herself onto him. He dodges and she nearly falls, only to be caught at the last moment by Jihyen, who staggers under her weight.

"I'm thinking we should go and help," Taec says, cringing and draining the last dregs of Jay's drink, the ice cubes slipping down to clink against his teeth. "Before they kill someone."

+

It takes all three of them—well, mainly Taec's piggyback, but Jay and Jihyen help to get her on and off—to get Sun to Taec's car, and then again from Taec's car into her house. They manage to get an almost perfect run all the way to her bedroom doorway, but her room is almost messier than the Ok's garage and Taec has to manoeuvre around a million obstacles before he can finally dump her on her bed.

"I should stay with her tonight," Jihyen says, gently laying Sun's head on her pillow. Jay repositions her feet and unhooks her arm from Taec's shoulder.

"Okay, I'll take Jay home," Taec says. He straightens up and Jihyen slides gracefully off the bed and they all stand around awkwardly until Taec claps suddenly and says, "Okay, well, see you later, Sis. I'll wait outside." He gives her a hug and then offers Jay a quick smile before he makes his way out.

Jay stares uncomfortably at the wall. Jihyen sighs.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I mean, I think I kind of ruined our date. First I wasn't… and then Sun… I never should have invited her."

"You know, it's cool, I can handle it," Jay says. Not that he would tell her if he couldn't. "Don't think Taec had much fun, though."

"I know, I didn't realise… I thought she liked him. I owe him."

"We both do," Jay agrees. He looks at her and she looks back, smiling slightly, and Jay is completely surprised to find that he feels… nothing. Well, not nothing, just not anything approaching the passion he should be feeling for his Soulmate, and he wonders if he's always been this flighty. Are a few stuff ups all it takes for him to lose interest?

Maybe he wasn't as into her as he thought he was, right from the beginning. Maybe she isn't The One, maybe they aren't meant to be together, and maybe he shouldn't make any more grand sweeping declarations and just take everything as it comes.

"We should try again, sometime," she says, and it's the fact that she doesn't really seem to mind either way that makes up Jay's mind for him.

"Maybe," he says, and kisses her on the cheek before he leaves.

Taec is waiting in the car with the engine idling when he steps out, and as soon as Jay gets in the car he turns to him and says, "Okay, I remember the no-food-after-eight-rule and I promise I've been following it but I'm so hungry right now I could eat my steering wheel."

Jay grins. "Fuck the rule and take me to where the food is."

+

"God," Jay groans, shoving more of his Big Mac into his mouth, "fuck this is amazing. It's like my whole body is rebooting."

Taec laughs. "I know the feeling." He takes the lid off his McChicken and Jay watches, fascinated, as he lays his fries neatly over the chicken patty and then puts it all together again before taking a giant bite.

"My brother does that," Jay tells him, "although he's more gross about it and just takes one bite, one bite, one bite until his mouth is so full her nearly pukes trying to swallow it all."

Taec rolls his eyes. "So vulgar at the dinner table. My sister doesn't even eat, so at least you know your sibling will die from heart disease rather than starvation."

"Our siblings are both fucking psychos," Jay mutters, "and our dates are both fucking failblog."

Taec grunts in agreement and they're silent for a while, scarfing down their food. Taec finishes first and leans back to stretch before picking up his food tray. "I'll be back," he says, and scrapes his chair back.

Jay nods distractedly, concentrating on eating. He's still in the middle of his second burger when he looks up to see Taec approaching with two ice-cream sundaes.

"You like strawberry, right?" Taec says, holding out the one covered in red.

Jay stares up at him. "What are you… if by strawberry you mean chocolate, then yeah."

"Oh." Taec frowns. "That must be Khun."

Jay is struck by a sudden and inexplicable burst of irritation, and he snatches the chocolate sundae out of Taec's hand. He hadn't even been planning on eating anything else, but fuck if he isn't now. "Why do you remember that, anyway? That's so fucking gay."

Taec shrugs, easing the lid off his own ice cream and digging his spoon inside to shovel a huge glob into his mouth. He notices Jay staring and grins obnoxiously, red smeared over his chin.

Jay slaps a napkin onto his face in disgust.

+

Jay emerges from his bedroom late the next afternoon, rubbing his eyes and adjusting to the light as he stumbles into the kitchen. Usually he's pretty quick to wake up, but he and Taec had stayed out late, mucking around and having fun, and he hadn't got home until the early hours of the morning. He never feels like he's slept well when his cycle is so interrupted, no matter how many hours he gets, and not even the fifty sit-ups he'd done upon waking helped very much. He groans and slumps into a stool at the breakfast bar, and his mom laughs as she works opposite him at the counter.

"Good night?" she asks.

He groans again, resting his head on his arm and watching her peel potatoes with a speed that's awed him since he was a kid. He doesn't quite know how to answer her question, because even though everything with Jihyen had been a total fucking disaster, the stuff that had happened after it with Taec had kinda made up for it. It shouldn't have, but Taec seems to know exactly what he needs and how to cheer him up, so instead of wanting to cry forever in his room about missed opportunities he's left with pretty positive feelings about last night.

"It ended up okay," he tells her. He glances up at her and she smiles, and Jay feels a little guilty about being so vague. This is his mom. He loves his mom, and they have a good relationship. Even if he doesn't wanna talk about Jihyen he should at least give her something. "It ended up just me and her brother," he offers, because he handle Taec-talk. "It was cool."

"Are you two friends now?" she asks, and Jay forces himself to sit up and consider the idea.

Taec is annoying as fuck, he's got disgusting habits, his style sucks, he's too smart and he's too tall, but he's somehow managed to worm himself into Jay's life. Jay even finds himself looking forward to seeing him, which must mean something. He figures he could probably do a lot worse—at least Taec hasn't maimed him or tried to sell of his kidneys online. "I guess so."

"Okay," she says, finishing the last potato, leaning over to kiss Jay on the forehead. "I'm glad." She moves over to the sink and Jay watches her absently, frowning.

Now that he's thinking about it, if he and Taec are friends then that changes things. It means things aren't as casual anymore, and Jay should probably start including him more in the things he does with his other friends, especially since Taec's been so cool about the Jihyen thing.

Jay figures he should start with something easy. He's supposed to be playing basketball with his crew after work tomorrow, and Junior's been bugging him about meeting his 'mistress' for a while now anyway, so he may as well take care of all of it the same time—two birds, one stone and one basketball.

+

His crew is completely down to meet Taec, right up until they see him. As they walk towards the basketball court and Jay points him out, Dial Tone starts trying to hide how threatened he feels by strutting and swearing, and Junior moves to walk behind Cha Cha, keeping his distance, analyzing Taec’s moves from afar.

"The fuck, Jay, you never told us he was the BFG," Dial Tone hisses, shoving Jay in the shoulder.

Jay pushes him back. "BFG, what the hell is a BFG? You're making shit up again."

"Big Friendly Giant. It was in a book, which is probably why you don't know it," Cha Cha teases, not looking intimidated in the slightest. None of them have to be, because Taec is probably the biggest wuss on the planet, but that's not what it looks like and Jay gets a kick out of watching them sweat.

"Big-ass fucking geek, more like it," Jay says dryly, watching as the ball rebounds off the backboard and nearly hits Taec in the face. "Yo, Taec!"

Taec looks up and grins widely, hurrying over to them. "Hey Jay. Hey guys, what's up, I'm Taec," he says, no reservations at all, and leans over to extend his hand out to Junior. Junior looks at it, looks up at Taec's friendly face, and after another moment takes his hand. The other two do the same, although with much less hesitation, and soon enough they're talking and laughing like old friends.

Jay is relieved that they're all getting along. It probably shouldn't matter so much, but it's like two facets of his life coming together, and it would be shit if his new friend didn't gel with his crew.

"So by my count we got five," Dial Tone says eventually, stealing the ball off Taec and feinting left around him before dodging right. "One of us gonna sit out? Or do you three think you can handle the Brothers Orduna?" He loops an arm around Junior's shoulders and they both pull faces that Jay thinks are supposed to be intimidating.

"I invited a friend, if that helps," Taec says, and Jay does a double take.

"You have friends?" he says. "That aren't Khun? Or Chan?"

Taec raises an eyebrow. "Um, Khun is even worse at sport than me—"

"Didn't realize that was possible."

"—and it is Chan."

"Well, that explains it, then." Jay smirks.

"Okay, seriously, is he usually this bitchy with you guys?" Taec asks, turning to Cha Cha, pulling a lame sad face.

Cha Cha grins, not looking at Jay, and Jay gets a very bad feeling about this. "Looks like you're special."

"He does talk about you a lot," Dial Tone adds, wisely keeping out of Jay's kicking distance. "Like, all the time. I felt like you were part of the crew already, man."

Taec laughs. "Awesome. Well I can't dance, so I'd have to be your cheerleader."

Junior lights up. "Hear that, Jay? Taec in a skirt!"

Jay shudders dramatically and wonders if killing him would count as self-defense. "That's disgusting," he says, glaring.

"He's covering his ass now," Dial Tone teases, "but you should hear the way he talks about you."

"You're such a fuckhead," Jay says, launching himself on Dial Tone and wrestling him into a headlock as the other three laugh. Dial Tone struggles to say more but Jay slaps a hand over his mouth, refusing to let go, enduring Dial Tone's tongue slobbering over his fingers. Sometimes his boys talk way too much shit. "Hey Taec, Chansung's here," he says quickly, desperate to change the topic.

The others all turn to look, even Dial Tone manoeuvring himself around, and Taec grins and waves. "Chansung!"

Junior, seeing just how tall Chansung is as he gets closer and then seeing just how easily he catches the ball Taec throws him, says, "Shotgun."

+

Jay is the first to take off his shirt as the scores get higher. Chansung goes next and the rest of AOM follows pretty quickly, until pretty soon Taec is the only one left with a shirt on. Jay grins and is just about to make fun of him for it when he hooks his hands under the hem of his brightly-coloured t-shirt and swiftly lifts it off, revealing a body that's almost as well-built as everyone else's.

Taecyeon throws the shirt aside, muscles straining and shifting under his stupidly tan skin. His biceps are massive when they clench, and his abs are easily discernible, distinctly separated in a way that only comes with a certain amount of working out, and it is so unexpected that Jay drops the ball.

"Jay, you're staring," Cha Cha says quietly as he passes, grinning and handing Jay back the ball.

He grabs it and refuses to look at either of them for the rest of the game, even though they're on the same team.

+

"What the fuck." It falls out of Jay's mouth before he can stop himself, and he stares at Taec, not even bothering to look anything other than horrified.

Taec has had a pretty solid school schedule for the past few weeks, so Jay hasn't spent as much time with him as usual—which, although he wouldn't admit it, was kind of weird since he's gotten used to Taec's company—but when Taec called him up the night before and told him to come over he was not expecting this, because what the fuck?

"That's exactly what I thought," Jihyen sing-songs from behind them, gliding past the front door, and in the back of Jay's mind he registers that she's in a pair of the tiniest denim shorts ever created, but Taec is just—

"What, you don't like it?" Taec asks, self-consciously bringing his hand to his—short! blond!—hair as he swings the door all the way open.

Jay kicks off his shoes and steps inside. "I dunno, man," he says, making for the kitchen by backing down the hallway, completely mesmerised by Taec's head, "it's seriously whack."

"They said I had the bone structure to pull it off," Taec protests. He sits at the kitchen bench, moping a bit, and Jay finally tears his gaze away and shakes his head, moving over to the pantry and rifling through it.

"Your hairdresser needs her fucking eyes checked. Seriously, was she a midget or was she fucking high, or what?" He emerges with a bag of dried mangoes—there are like ten bags in there, and he has the sneaking suspicion Taec's mom is buying extra for this very reason—and rips it open, shoving a bunch in his mouth.

"My barber is a dude who's as tall as me," Taec says, suddenly seeming really vulnerable. He's been getting like that a lot lately, and Jay's not sure if it's just with him, because they're legit friends now and Taec cares what he thinks, but it makes him uncomfortable that he has such power over another human being and he never really knows what to say. "You really hate it that much?"

"I do," Jihyen says, passing through again, but they both ignore her.

Jay considers Taec seriously for a moment, putting down his mangoes before reaching up and repeatedly poking a finger into Taec's hair. It's prickly and kind of ticklish against his skin, and it's so different from Taec's previous floppy, nerd-Asian style that it's still a bit of a shock. "I'll get used to it," he says, dropping his hand.

Taec breaks into a grin, because he knows what that means, he always knows what Jay means, and grabs a handful of mangoes.

Jay rolls his eyes. "You're wearing a hat when we go out in public," he orders, snatching the packet back. "Or a paper bag."

Taec just salutes, still smiling.

+

Jay figures another part of including Taec more in his life means finally letting him into his house for more than five minutes at a time, so when Taec drops him off after a session at the gym, Jay invites him inside.

Taec raises his eyebrows, hands still on the steering wheel, car still running. "Seriously?"

"Stop with the eyebrows, it's freaking me out," Jay snaps. "And if you're not inside in like two minutes I'm locking you out." He climbs out of the car, not waiting for an answer, and makes his way to his front door. A moment later, the engine stops and he hears a car door slam and footsteps behind him, and he can't help but smirk as he unlocks the door.

Jehan is in the kitchen when they go inside, slurping at a bowl of ice-cream, and Jay rolls his eyes.

"Shouldn't you be at school?" he snipes, knowing he's being immature, but he really wouldn't have minded waiting longer to introduce Taec to his caveman of a younger brother.

"Shouldn't you be with your mom?" Jehan shoots back, the perfect dumb-ass, and Jay glances at Taec as he appears in the hall.

"This is the Douche," Jay says, motioning to Jehan. He dumps his backpack on the floor and grabs two bottles of water from the fridge. Tossing one to Taec, he leans against the sink and watches Taec hover in the doorway for an uncertain moment, feeling rather pleased that Taec's the one out of his comfort zone for once. Jehan turns to Taec to greet him, lips covered in chocolate sauce, and Jay frowns as Taec's face lights up in recognition.

"Hey, man!" he says.

"Taec, wassup?"

Jay watches in disbelief as Taec leans over the kitchen bench and they do an awkward chest bump. "You guys know each other? How?"

"Khun," they say, both grinning widely, and Jay can't help but admire the extent of Khun's reach.

"How do you even know Khun?"

Jehan shrugs, shoving another spoonful of ice-cream into his mouth. "We're tight. We share beanies, we like meaningful quotes, and I took the photos at his twenty-first."

He smirks and Jay flicks his open bottle at him, dousing him with water.

"Fuck off, I just did my hair," Jehan whines, lifting his shirt to wipe it off, but it's completely ruined any style—or lack thereof—he may have once had. "Thanks, now I gotta redo it, you're such a bitch." He tries to launch what's left of his ice-cream at Jay but misses, and it splatters onto the counter.

"Clean that up or I'm telling mom," Jay warns, but Jehan ignores him, already heading out of the room.

"Oh, by the way, Okcat? Dope hairdo." Jehan flicks him the V-sign and disappears into the hallway. Jay turns to Taec to see him grinning and waving, the other hand running proudly through his hair.

Taec finally notices Jay watching and slowly lowers his hand. "What?"

"Okcat?"

"I like cats." Jay doesn't bite, though—he just keeps staring until Taec relents and rolls his eyes. "Look, we've had a few classes together, okay? I never put two and two together and I haven't been secretly stalking you. Know how many of our countrymen have your surname?"

Jay grudgingly has to admit that he's right. "C'mon, then." He grabs his backpack and makes for his room. Taec follows right behind him, a bit too close for Jay's taste, but he doesn't say anything, still too weirded out by Taec's unexpected connection to his family.

"You know, it's kinda unfair the ratio of times I've been in your room compared to you in my room," Taec comments as they enter, closing the door again behind him.

Jay collapses onto his bed and closes his eyes. "Do I have a sister you find unbelievably hot?"

"I dunno, man, Jehan's pretty attractive…"

"You can have him. Just stop talking, it fucking freaks me out that you know him and you're not ever allowed to mention him again."

Taec laughs and Jay hears him settle on the floor. He honestly doesn't really care what Taec does but he's kind of regretting inviting him inside now, because he can feel the tiredness slowly creeping up on him and he can't be bothered entertaining anyone.

They're both quiet for a few minutes and Jay is happy for the peace, but then he hears a faint rustling and Taec breaks the calm.

"Junk?" he says.

"What?" Jay levers himself up onto his elbows, squinting at him.

"Junk?" He holds up a CD labeled in marker and waves it around.

Jay shakes his head, hefting himself off the bed and crawling closer, settling on his stomach next to Taec. "Nah, man, that's Jun.K. He's a music major, done some collabs with Cha Cha and taught me some stuff. He's pretty legit."

"Cool." Taec replaces the CD and leans back on his palms, spreading out his legs. "Have you ever recorded anything?" He sounds curious and Jay shrugs.

"Nothing serious."

"Can I hear it?"

"Only if I can hear you rap."

The look on Taec's face is priceless—his eyes widen and his jaw drops comically and he looks even stupider than usual. "Who told you?"

"Chansung," Jay says cheerfully.

Taec growls. "He swore on his kitten's life!"

Jay is expectant, though, and rolls onto his side to prod him repeatedly in the ribs.

"I'm not doing it," Taec insists, batting Jay's hands away, but Jay just pokes him harder.

"Come on, you know you want to."

Taec's frown deepens. "I really don't."

"I won't make fun of you, I promise."

Taec still looks unsure and Jay finds himself quickly growing annoyed. What, so Taec doesn't think he can trust him, now? "What's the big deal? You can do it for everyone else except me? I'm not your friend? I guess I should be used to it, you never tell me anything."

"Jay, I told you, I didn't know about Jehan!" Taec says, exasperated.

"I'm not—who cares about that, that's not what I mean."

"Then what?

"I just," Jay pauses, before deciding to just fucking get on with it. "I mean, the hair, the body, seriously, you get a girl or something? Why all the surprises?"

Taec just looks at him for a moment, seeming to finally catch onto where Jay's coming from, and a sly grin spreads across his face. He runs a hand roughly over Jay's hair. "Why would I need a girl when I have you?" he coos.

"Fuck off." Jay shakes him off but Taec just laughs.

"Okay, chill, man. I got a haircut for the summer and if you haven't noticed my amazing body before this, that's not exactly my fault."

"Why didn't you say anything? I gave you shit for weeks!"

"I knew this moment would come. It was fun watching you looking like such a dick." Taec reaches out and grips Jay's upper arm, making him look at him. "Jay, are you okay? You're acting kinda weird."

"I'm not—god, would you just fucking rap for me already?"

"Why do you keep pushing this?" Taec asks curiously, but Jay refuses to answer because the simple answer is that he's not sure. Yeah, he'd love to add another item to his list to give Taec shit for, but he's also kind of annoyed that now that's he's finally decided to open up or whatever the fuck, Taec seems to be the one holding back. "You know what, it's okay," Taec continues. He uses Jay's shoulder to lever himself up. "I'll do it, I'm doing it. Okay?"

Taec only gives him enough time to swing around into a cross-legged position before he opens his mouth, and what comes out is really not what Jay expected. Chansung had said girls liked his rapping, but Jay seriously hadn't been banking on how deep and rough his voice could sound, and in a good way. It's not perfect—his breathing is all wrong and he seriously needs to work on his stage presence—but it certainly isn't as bad as he'd expected.

When Taec finishes he hunches over and looks at the ground, the tips of his ears glowing red with embarrassment. Jay briefly wonders how long to keep him suffering but gives in when he notices Taec's eye twitching.

"Okay, for starters, stop taking pointers from Kanye," Jay instructs. "He's got mad style but he also has the most whack breath control. And would it kill you to interact with your audience a bit, I'm sitting here watching you rap to the fucking wall. Aside from that," he says, feeling the corner of his mouth twitch up, "you didn't completely suck."

Taec finally looks up and holds Jay's gaze, making sure he's serious, and then grins back.

+

>

+ Spitting Games [3/3] [2PM]

2011-02-02T12:12:28Z

<

+

"Hey," Taec says, looking up and rubbing his eyes as Jay steps into his room the next day. "Jihyen's not here."

"I know, your mom filled me in." Jay drops his backpack on the floor and hurls himself onto Taec's bed, rolling onto his back and flailing his arms out. He hadn't really come for Jihyen but he hasn't told Taec anything about his change of heart—as far as Taec's concerned, Jay is still in love. Jay doesn't really know why he hasn't told him yet, but he keeps putting it off, allowing himself to get distracted, and then losing the opportunity again. "She told me about your essay, too. Apparently, I'm not allowed to bug you and—what the fuck, man, what the hell are they?"

Taec frowns, right in the middle of putting on a pair of glasses. "What?"

Jay stares, because he'd assumed Taec had just grown out of glasses and seeing them on him now is just ridiculous. "You still wear glasses?"

"Oh." Taec's hands immediately go back to his frames, adjusting them on his face. "I know, I lost a contact and they were my last ones until I—"

"You wear contacts?"

Taec looks amused. "Jay, I'm Asian. The likelihood of me needing some sort of corrective lens is pretty high." Jay jumps off the bed and moves closer to him and he leans back warily.

Jay ignores him. "Can I try them?"

"Why?" His left eyebrow looks like it's possibly raised, but Jay can't tell properly.

"I just wanna see what it's like," he insists, and slides them gently off Taec's nose before he can stop him. As soon as he puts them on his own face, he cringes. "Whoa, what the fuck, your eyesight must really suck, man," he says, waving his hand in front of his face. It’s nothing more than an fuzzy blur of skin through Taec's lenses, and Jay is more than happy to take them off again and return them to their owner, letting everything get its shape and texture back.

"It really does," Taec agrees, jamming them back on. "Just be glad you don't need them. I wish I didn't."

He grimaces and goes back to his work. Jay clambers back onto the bed, pulls out his phone and pretends to go on Twitter, but he keeps sneaking glances at Taec.

His whole face looks different. The shape of it seems shorter, like it's cut in half, but coupled with the short hair his forehead somehow looks massive. It's harder to see the lines around his eyes when he smiles, too, and it's kind of weird not being able to see his exact expression, because Jay has got used to knowing Taec's feelings at any point in time just by looking at his eyes.

He stares at Taec for a little longer, not even realizing he's really doing it until Taec looks up and waggles his eyebrows comically, puckering his lips and making exaggerated kissing noises.

"Shut up," Jay says and gets revenge by leaning over and whipping Taec's textbook out of his hands. Taec grabs for it but he's too slow, and then something falls out and he tries for that, too, but Jay's already picked it up.

It's a volume of some basketball manga he's seen Taec reading before, and Taec is more than three-quarters of the way through it. Jay looks at him, scandalized. "You’re not even studying!"

"I read few pages." Jay looks at him suspiciously and he pouts. "I did! I'm just taking a break!"

"Fine. Just don't expect me to be quiet anymore."

Taec looks amused. "Like I'd make that mistake."

+

"So it's Chansung's party tonight," Taec says, spread out and hanging upside down over the edge of his bed, not looking away from his manga, not even bothering to hide it anymore. Jay realises he's allowed himself to get distracted by the way Taec's glasses reflect the light, and goes back to throwing darts at the picture of Khun's face, tacked to the dartboard on the back of Taec's bedroom door.

He throws one and it hits Khun right in the middle of one overgrown eyebrow, and Taec takes his growl of victory as a sign to continue talking.

"I have no idea what it's for since his birthday was months ago, but I'm heading there soon. Apparently he's doing karaoke."

Jay throws another dart and it wedges directly into Khun's chin. "Sounds like fun, man," he says, not really thinking, "I'll come with."

"Aren’t you waiting for Jihyen?" Taecyeon asks, finally dropping his manga and sitting upright, and Jay blinks.

Right. Jihyen. The girl Taec still thinks he would sell his soul for.

This moment would be a very good time to tell the truth. Sure, it might put Taec in an awkward position but it's not like Jay dumped her or anything. He and Taec could still be friends as usual and everything would be fine.

Jay opens his mouth and the words are there, he can feel the shapes in his mouth, but then he looks at Taec's expectant face and—he can't say it. "Right," he says instead, looking away as Taecyeon blinds him with a grin before getting up and moving closer. "I was. I am. You'll just have to go by yourself, you fucking loser." Jay shoves at him, and Taecyeon laughs.

"Who's the one going out to a party while you stay and pine over a girl, alone, by yourself, alone?"

"Fuck you," Jay retorts, and Taecyeon grins wider, spreading his arms out.

"You really want to? Come on, I won't say no."

Jay smirks back, because they do this a lot and Taec always loses, never willing to push it as far as he needs to go before chickening out. Jay begins stalking towards him and, predictably, Taec's smile disappears.

"Okay, what are you doing? Come on Jay, I was joking." He steps backwards but he trips over an Xbox controller and lands hard on his back on his bed.

Jay lets out a war cry and dives on top of him, making sure he digs his knees and elbows in, and Taec grunts in pain, trying to push him off, but Jay pins down his arms, pressing close.

"Jay, you're crushing me," Taec complains, blinking up at him, but for some reason suddenly all Jay can think about is their positions, the warmth and sturdiness of Taec underneath him, the way their faces are so close together, the way Taec's glasses have slipped down and sit all crooked on his nose. "Jay?"

Jay feels something—lots of somethings, too many somethings to count. There's a fluttery feeling in his gut like he's going to puke and a jerky feeling in his chest like he's just worked out for half an hour and the back of his neck is all tingly and then he thinks—fuck, this is familiar. This is what he felt with Jihyen in the beginning, what he's felt with every girl he's ever liked or loved, right down to the steadily increasing tingling in his groin but—

It can't be. It can't, because this isn't just some girl, this is Taec, Taec, what the fuck.

And then Taec goes really quiet, even his breathing barely audible, staring up at Jay and his glasses are so far down now that his eyes are completely visible, wide and vulnerable with something in them Jay has only seen there a few times, seen but not understood because he hadn't realised, hadn't thought…

He understands now.

There's a heavy silence for a few moments until Jay can longer stand the tension and breaks eye contact. He slides off Taec and then off the bed, putting distance between them, trying to get some perspective. Taec slowly sits up and settles his glasses back on his nose. His jaw works and he looks like he wants to say something but then he shakes his head, adjusting his jeans and pulling on his earlobe.

"Stay as long as you want," Taec says finally, voice wavering as he stands up. "Just. I'll see you later…" He trails off and his footsteps fade away, the front door opening and then closing again a few moments later.

Jay squeezes his hands into fists, frustrated, and a bright glinting object on the floor reminds him there's still one last dart. He picks it up and throws it hard at the door, and it bounces off Khun's lips and imbeds itself back into the carpet.

Fucking typical.

+

Jay stays in Taec's room. He stays and he sits and he thinks about Taecyeon like he hasn't allowed himself to before. He thinks about him in the same way he usually thinks about Jihyen, about girls, and Jay knows it should be freaking him out, but it isn't.

When did he get like this? He tries to pinpoint the exact time that he started liking Taec's eyes and caring so much about his hair and his schooling and his life, but the last few months have all blended into one short period of just… good.

Jay feels good with Taec. At first he thought that was because of Jihyen, because of the highs and lows that came with a crush, but in reality it had nothing to do with her. He barely even saw her, it didn't work between them, she wasn't interested, and ultimately, neither was he. Maybe he never even really liked her and actually liked Taec all along, since Jihyen is just a more girly version of him, anyway.

Whatever the case, Jay's ready to admit that he's been pretending. Pretending to his friends, to his mom, to Taec and to himself. Pretending that he's fine, that he's normal, and that no, he wasn't just admiring Taec's height or wondering if he would find this new joke funny or thinking that, even if he didn't get a fuck, at least one good thing came out of him pursuing Jihyen. He wasn't just wishing he was with Taec instead of getting that newest flip down or helping out with the dishes. He wasn't just finding himself suddenly and inexplicably happy as Taec tried to copy Rain's dance and failed horribly, nearly falling on his face but laughing the entire time.

The problem is that pretending is getting tiring, and Jay's not sure how much longer it can last, or much longer he wants it to.

+

Jay is still waiting when Taec gets back a few hours later, unable to leave without making sure Taec's okay. Taec is, but he's also more than a little tipsy when he stumbles into the room, waking Jay from his brief nap by walking into something and letting out a badly-muffled cry of pain. Jay is alert almost immediately, hurrying over and helping him onto his bed, ignoring his alcohol breath and the warmth of his skin as his shirt rides up over his stomach, focusing instead on lifting his humongous limbs enough to pull off his jacket.

"Jay," Taec says, soft and gentle, almost a whisper, waving his arm outwards. He gropes around and his palm ends up on Jay's elbow, sliding to his upper arm and gripping tight. A trail of heat follows his hand, and coupled with Jay's newest revelation it feels too weird so Jay hurries to remove it, placing it back on the bed and pulling the covers up.

"Go to sleep," he orders, pulling Taec's smudged glasses off and setting them aside. Taec does so quickly, nodding off in less than thirty seconds, and Jay hurries to leave before anything else happens.

Jay keeps thinking about Taec the entire night. He thinks about him, their time together, his feelings, thinks until he's so tired he can't think anymore, and finally falls asleep for the last few hours of the morning.

+

Taec comes to visit him at work the next afternoon to say thanks. Jay has used up all his breaktime so Taec has no choice but to watch him as he replaces the tyres on a fancy BMW, passing him overly-simplified—"the long metal thing with the circle on the end"—tools every so often.

For Taec it's not awkward at all. He seems to be quite happy to ignore the weirdness of yesterday, and talks easily about the party and college and homework and his friends while Jay listens and tries to deal with his new feelings and not to get too jealous about these other people that know Taec, friends that he does homework with and shares secrets with and spends so much time with and—

He clears his throat, forcing himself to let it go, straightens up and swipes his hand over his face to brush his wilting hair back.

Taec notices and laughs. "Dude, you got grease on you." He reaches out, extending his hand to rub at Jay's cheek, and Jay starts as his calloused thumb sweeps over his skin.

This. This is really not how it's supposed to be. You're not supposed to feel this good when one of your best fucking friends touches you, and really it's the confirmation Jay needs. This kind of involuntary reaction, on top of hours of contemplation and days of confusing feelings and weeks of spending too much time with someone he only just met and enjoying it more than he should, on top of everything that happened the day before, tells him everything he needs to know. Everything he can no longer ignore.

Taec is still rubbing, smiling and looking kind of like Jay's mom does sometimes when it's that time of the month, all emotional and sentimental and shit and Jay suddenly thinks—maybe he isn't alone in all of this. Maybe this, and the way Taec always stands so close, and the way his hands will linger a lot more than Cha Cha's or even Khun's do when they touch, and the way Jay will sometimes catch him watching him even though he's not doing anything, and the way Taec looked at him yesterday on the bed… maybe it all means something.

Maybe Taec feels the same way.

Maybe he should just take the chance.

"Taec," he says quietly, wrapping his fingers tight around Taec's wrist, jerking him forwards and using the momentum to bring him even closer. Taec's eyes widen slightly, and Jay feels a brief burst of envy as it almost looks like he has double eyelids, before his gaze is drawn to the snick in Taec's eyebrow and then down to his stupid dimples before finally resting on his oversized teeth and then Taec takes a breath to say something and—

And Jay is leaning up, moving in, and sliding his lips over Taec's, clumsy and off-target, but his intent is clear. Taec freezes for a moment, and Jay doesn't know what to think when Taec's eyes almost drift closed before he slowly and gently pulls back, hands gripping at Jay's shoulders.

"What are you doing, Jay?" Taec says quietly, not looking at him, voice wavering. He lets go of Jay to press the back of his hand over his mouth and Jay finally realises what he's done, stumbling backwards from the force of his own retreat and trying not to trip over any of his uncle's tools, because he'll be in deep shit if he breaks anything.

Taec just stares at the floor and breathes for a moment before he turns and practically bolts out of the shop, and Jay knows that something's already broken.

+

Jay doesn't see Taec for days afterwards. It also means he doesn't see Jihyen, which his mom finds strange, but he doesn't give a shit about that at all, not anymore. It's Taec he misses, Taec's bad jokes and bad fashion sense and bad haircut, making his own hair look eternally fucking professionally styled in comparison.

He keeps going to tell Taec things, to text him about the dog that just crapped on Mr Weston's prize-winning roses, or how Jehan keeps watching Japanese porn too loud and thinking no-one notices but those screeches are recognisable from the other side of the fucking country, or even about the rap that he just wrote that includes quite possibly the best line in history—involving astronauts—but he can't.

He can't because he kissed Taec. Ok Fucking Taecyeon. The brother of the girl he'd thought was his Soulmate.

Fuck.

+

Jay mopes around the house for so long that his even his mom finally gets annoyed and kicks him out.

"Go and talk to your girlfriend," she says firmly, herding him out of the house. "I'm sick of seeing you like this, so please just figure it out."

She slams the door shut. It opens again a moment later and his shoes come flying out, almost hitting him in the head.

Jay wishes he had the guts to tell her the truth.

+

"The fuck, Jay?" Junior complains loudly after Jay messes up a fourth time, slipping in the middle of a handspring and tumbling to the ground. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing." He pushes himself up and dusts his palms off on his thighs, trying to sound honest. Trying to sound like he isn't completely screwed up right now. "I'm cool."

Everything is quiet for a moment and Jay looks up to see Junior glaring at him, stubborn and irritated. Dial Tone stands beside him, eyes flicking nervously between them, quiet for what is possibly the first time ever. Cha Cha doesn't interrupt his rep of sit-ups nearby, but Jay knows he's watching. He shifts uncomfortably and stands up, disliking the thick tension.

"I said I'm cool," he repeats, but Junior snorts.

"Yeah, real convincing man."

"Bro," Dial Tone says, reaching out, but Junior shakes him off.

"Jay," Junior says, but he doesn't seem angry anymore, just resigned. Jay wants to punch himself in the face for making one of his homies sound that way. Fuck, he can just add it to list of reasons he wants seriously harm himself. "Jay," Junior says again, "I dunno what's going on with you, but we got a battle on real soon, and you've been weird for days, and we just—"

"I know," Jay says quickly. "I'm. I'll work it. I am. Working on it."

"Just. Sort your shit out and stop fucking everything up." Junior holds Jay's gaze for a moment, and Jay nods, making sure he understands that he knows. Fuck, does he know. Junior looks away and sighs. "I'm out, then. This is a waste of time today."

He backs away and Jay lets him, lets him grab his backpack and walk out, lets Dial Tone follow him, lets the door slam shut behind them. He falls to the floor on his back and stares at the ceiling, tracing the cracks in the paint and taking a moment to calm himself down, breathing deeply, Cha Cha working steadily beside him.

"You think we don't know?" Cha Cha says after a while, and Jay rolls onto his stomach to look at him.

"What?"

"We weren't joking when we said how much you mention Taec," he comments, finishing up and grabbing the towel next to him, wiping it over his face.

The panic immediately comes back. "I don't—"

"If you don't wanna talk about it, that's cool, then don't." He gives a small half-smile, and Jay can tell he's kinda hurt, even though he doesn't say it. He's known Cha Cha long enough to tell him almost anything, but this time he just can't. It's too much. "But seriously, we don't care what you do. You're Jay, and we just wanna go back to normal. Do whatever's gonna make that happen, and we got your back, no matter what."

Cha Cha stands, throwing the towel in Jay's face. Jay grunts in protest and fishes his way out of it to find Cha Cha's fist hovering a few inches from his face. He bumps it carefully with his own, and Cha Cha smiles.

+

He ends up at the basketball court on the way home, arriving there almost before he even realises that's where he was heading. He's not really all that surprised to see that Taec is already there, and Jay is sure that it says a lot about them that they both ended up back at the same place. Taec is standing at the far end, lobbing the ball towards the hoop, actually scoring baskets, and Jay is proud to see how much he has improved.

Jay watches him for a moment, but then he finds himself concentrating on the way Taec's arm and back muscles flex in his wifebeater instead and Jay's never been attracted to a dude's body before but this is Taec, Taec, and somehow that makes it all okay.

"Hey," Taec calls, startling him, and Jay cringes, because he doesn't think ready for this. Taec's stare is challenging as he raises his eyebrows. "You came here for a reason, right?"

Jay nods and finds himself moving closer, almost against his will and definitely against his better judgment, joining Taec on the court. Taec hands him the ball without a word and moves in front to block him.

"I'm not sorry," Jay blurts, squinting as Taec raises his hands over Jay's head in defense, the late-afternoon shadow completely covering him. "It would be easier if I was. But. I'm not."

Taec nods slowly. "And what about Jihyen? Will you be sorry if she finds out?"

"Jihyen?" Jay blinks, confused, before he realises—Taec still doesn't know. Jay never got around to telling him, and he still thinks—god, he still thinks Jay and Jihyen have a thing. "I'm not… we're not like that," he says, trying not to sound too desperate. "I mean. It didn't work out."

Taec stares at him for a moment, his jaw clenching over and over before he slowly lowers his arms to Jay's shoulders and rests them there, heavy and sweaty. He watches his hands like he can't control them, seeming surprised as they drape further over Jay's shoulders and link around his neck.

Jay just breathes, nervous and willing as Taec draws him closer, their torsos brushing. He drops the ball when Taec moves suddenly, spinning him and backing him up until he's leaning against the pole of the basketball hoop. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the ball rolling out onto the road, and thinks vaguely that there's bound to be an accident, but then Taec's thumbs brush over his neck and all of his focus transfers to the warmth of Taec's fingers as they trail over his skin. Taec leans in slowly and Jay stays still, sensing Taec's need to do this himself, to get to this point at his own pace. He stops when he's an inch away and Jay watches him closely, half primed for another rejection, half waiting and wanting.

"Jay," Taec murmurs, and finally presses closer to rest his lips on Jay's for a brief moment. Jay doesn't close his eyes, keeping them wide open just in case this isn't—

Taec pulls away quickly, like he expects armed homophobes to attack from all sides, and blinks at Jay before he grins a little, tilting his head and moving back in. Jay tips his head back to lean against the pole and lets Taec lead, lets Taec connect their lips again, dictate when they add tongue and how much, and then decide when they finally slow to a halt, Taec's hand cupping Jay's jaw.

"Shit," Taec says, hot air hitting Jay's chin as he breathes. He's too quiet and he sounds stunned but his eyes only show relief, and that says more than any words ever could.

+

Jay doesn't see Taec again until Khun's birthday a week later. They parted happily yet awkwardly at the basketball court and they've kept in phone contact, but it's a bit hard to discuss a gay make-out in a text.

It's probably a good thing that they've had some space, some time apart to digest what's happened, but even though Jay knows this, it hasn't stopped him from being fidgety and tense the whole time. He's constantly thinking about Taec and everything reminds him of him, so when he finally sees him again, striding through the door with Jihyen on his arm, he has to force himself to stay in his seat and not do anything stupid.

+

Taec keeps looking at him. He's doing the rounds of the room, greeting everyone, shaking hands and hugging and kissing cheeks, but his eyes are constantly drawn back to Jay and while it makes Jay feel a little bit less impatient, a little less ignored—a little bit—it's also completely maddening.

When Taec greets Khun's sisters he nods at Jay, when he fist bumps Chansung he winks at Jay, and even when he gets to Khun, pulling him into a hug before getting down on one knee to present him with his badly-wrapped birthday gift, he locks his gaze on Jay over Khun's shoulder and smirks.

He's a fucking tease and it's driving Jay a little crazy. He finds himself squeezing the denim of his jeans between his fists so hard his fingers hurt, and he wonders if Taec knows what he's doing. He probably does, he thinks, as Taec stands and finally looks at him squarely and the other corner of his mouth twitches up, and he's deriving some sort of sick pleasure from it.

Jay's fuming, about to get up and go pummel Taec a little before dragging him away somewhere private, because there's another thing he's been feeling all week that's much less innocent, but then the song on the stereo changes to SexyBack. Khun hollers in delight and grabs Taec's hand right as he had been moving closer to Jay, shoving a pair of sunglasses on his head and launching directly into what is obviously a pre-established routine. Everyone forms a circle around them and Taec begins to rap and Khun attempts to sing and everyone is whooping and cheering and Jay wonders what sort of alternate universe this is.

Taec is good, though, much better than the first time he let Jay hear him. His breathing is much steadier and he seems to have been practicing what Jay taught him. He's feeding off everyone's energy, waving his hands to get them to sing along, before he begins to make his way through the crowd. They part for him and he stops right in front of Jay, waggling his eyebrows before he starts dancing all up on him, thrusting and shaking himself in a vague imitation of choreography.

Everyone else is laughing at this point, Khun especially, and Jay would be too but Taec does body wave right in his face and all he can feel is really fucking turned on.

In a huge crowd of people. At his friend's birthday party. Where his object of lust is not only a dude, but singing Justin Timberlake and performing some of the worst dance moves ever known to man.

Jay thinks he must be at least seventy-five percent fucked up.

In an effort to distract himself, he launches himself up and into an empty spot in the circle, dropping and going quickly into a one-handed freeze. He follows up with a few more of his most impressive-looking break moves and he can hear the cheering escalate so he knows it must be working. When the song finally—finally—changes, he leaps up and faces Taec, as if challenging him to a dance battle, but he's quite unprepared for what he sees.

Taec's eyes, obvious over the rims of his lowered sunglasses, are dark, darker than Jay's ever seen them. His jaw is clenched tight, and his Adam's apple works up and down as he reaches out to rest his hand on Jay's shoulder, tracing lightly down his skin to curl around his bicep, like so many times before, except this time there's so much more to it and—

They stare at each other for a few moments, before Jay, only half-aware of his actions, grabs Taec's hand from his arm and wrenches him through the crowd, past Khun and Jihyen, practically barrelling through Chansung and his stupidly happy friend Jinwoon, and then hurrying upstairs, directly into Khun's bedroom.

+

"Fucking finally," Jay says, pushing Taec against the closed door. He yanks off Taec's sunglasses and tosses them aside before licking up Taec's neck, surprising himself by liking the slightly rough trace of stubble against his tongue. He doesn't know when he started wondering how Taec's skin would feel, how the contours of his abs would compare to his own, but now that he has he can't stop. He's burning to know what it's like, to catalogue the sensations, to feel everything.

Taec bares his teeth, manoeuvring a warm hand under Jay's t-shirt to slide up his back, gripping onto his shoulder blade and holding him steady. "Jay," he says, voice even deeper than usual, "Khun's cutting his cake. We should— We can't—"

And then Jay slips his tongue into his mouth, which seems to make him realise—actually, they can.

+

The door flies open when Jay is on the floor, braced over Taec on one arm, the other hand up the front of Taec's shirt, touching and exploring. Taec is running calloused fingertips over the bumps of Jay's spine, breathing hard through his nose as he sucks on Jay's tongue and they're so entangled in each other that it takes them both a few moments to register what has happened.

When they do, they pull apart as quickly as they can manage, but they're nowhere near fast enough.

"Shit," Taec breathes, staring up at his sister. He panics when he realises his pants are undone and yanks them closed. "Shit."

"I…" Jihyen trails off before her mouth snaps shut, and she calmly closes the door again, but not before Khun and Jehan—the fuck, why is Jehan here?—walk by and glance in.

Jay can only watch and feel like everything's fall apart as Taec jumps up and hastily buttons his clothes before running after her.

+

Jay is still curled up on Khun's bed much later when the party's over and Khun comes to find him. Jay knows it's Khun even with closed eyes, a bit because he'd know that disgusting cologne anywhere, but mainly because he's still wearing the cowbell Jay gave him as a present and it chimes with his every movement.

"Happy birthday, man," Jay says hollowly. He feels the bed dip and a hand pat his calf.

"Thanks." Khun moves to lie on his back next to him and Jay rolls over. They both stare at the ceiling in silence. "Taecyeon?" Khun asks finally, but his tone is serious, completely non-judgmental, and Jay sighs.

"I know."

"How?"

"I don't know."

"Well… I got nothing, man. This is…"

Jay nods. "Yeah. Sorry about ruining your birthday."

"What is it with you and my parties?" he asks, sounding more sympathetic than anything. "At least you always make them memorable."

"Fuck." Jay squeezes his eyes shut, feels bile rising in his throat, and tries his best not to vomit all over Khun's bed. "What if Jehan… My mom thinks I'm in love with Jihyen."

Khun reaches down and wordlessly takes his hand, linking their fingers. Jay frowns, but he's grateful for the warmth, for Khun's unwavering support and friendship, so he holds on tight.

Still, "You're so fucking gay," he can't stop himself from saying, and Khun laughs.

+

Jehan is going to be a little bitch. Jay can tell as soon as he walks in the door the next day and he's standing right there, arms crossed, wearing a baggy pink t-shirt with the word GAY emblazoned across the front. In glitter.

Jay stares at him. He stares back but can only last a few moments before breaking into a fit of laughter. Their mom comes in carrying a full washing basket and frowns as she sees Jehan doubled over, the GAY repeated on his back as for extra measure.

"I wish you wouldn't wear that," she says, whacking him with the basket as she passes. "It's so insulting."

"Jay thinks so, too," Jehan says, snickering. "He has special feelings on the matter."

Jay manages to kick him hard in the shin while she's still not looking, and he falls over, laughing the entire time.

"Behave," she says, placing the basket on the dining table before turning to Jay and rolling her eyes. "Can you two sort this properly? I need to start on dinner."

Jay nods and kisses her cheek as she passes. He always marvels at the softness of her skin, how delicate she seems, how fragile and sensitive she looks on the outside, when really she's the toughest person Jay knows, strong and vibrant and always, always there for them, no matter what.

Fuck, he hates lying to her.

Sighing, he grabs Jehan's foot and drags him over to the table, where he finally stops giggling long enough to stand upright. They're silent for a while, sorting and folding inexpertly, but Jehan can only ever stay silent for so long.

"I haven't told anyone," he says. He's suddenly more serious than Jay has ever heard him and he's being very careful not to look up, concentrating hard on the pair of boxers in his hands.

"Okay," Jay says, grateful beyond all measure but keeping his tone neutral. He's equally as tentative as he zips up one of his dad's jackets and folds it over, putting it in a separate pile from his mom's nightgown. He really doesn't know how Jehan will react. They love each other, and they have a relatively decent relationship, but this is completely different. This isn't something that can be compared to the time when Jay accidentally hit him in the back of the head with a tennis racket, or when Jehan shut Jay's fingers in the door on his birthday, or when Jay pinched Jehan so hard he left a scar. Or even the time when Jay ran away and Jehan brought him back, or when Jay saved Jehan from some bullies in his grade, or when their parents went through a rough patch a few years ago and they both thought they were going to break up so they were on their best behaviour for weeks, working together to show just what a good family they were—not fighting, cleaning up without prompting and even doing their homework.

This is a whole new playing field. They still have that history and they still love each other, obviously, but something is so intrinsically different about Jay now, Jay who used to be so predictable and dependable. It might make Jehan feel uncomfortable and scared, and he might lash out, and Jay is right in the middle of mentally preparing himself for the worst when Jehan adds, "And I won't. Not until you want to."

Jay blinks, waiting for the catch, the joke, the threats and blackmail, but they don't come. Jehan just keeps sorting through the underwear like they're discussing sports or take-out. "I… thanks, man," he manages.

Jehan finally looks up and smiles crookedly. "Don't get all weepy and shit. Just because you love dick it doesn't mean you can start acting like a chick."

"Okay, okay, I get it." Jay grins back, dodging as Jehan throws one of their mom's bras in his face. "I won't start bawling."

"Also," he says, pointing at Jay, looking him right in the eyes, "no fucking in the house. I do not wanna see… that again."

"That?"

"That. The bro-pashing."

"Well, it kinda comes with the package," Jay points out, and Jehan snickers at his choice of words.

"I know, but for real. It's not something I need to witness." He pauses, before a familiar mischievous look crosses over his face and he continues, "Also, Taecyeon? Really? Dude, Khun's right there."

Jay snorts. "Trust you to like them girly."

"Uh, yeah, because I like girls."

"I've heard the Japanese shrieking, fucking perve."

Jehan shrugs, slapping a pair of Jay's jeans down on his pile of dried washing and reaching for a t-shirt, but they both know that Jehan is terrible at folding tops, so Jay takes it from him before it gets any more wrinkled and begins to do it properly. Jehan just watches and Jay can feel his eyes boring into his back and he knows that one of his stupid, inane comments is—

"I think I accidentally downloaded some gay shit once, if you—"

"Fuck off." They continue on in silence and Jay is just pairing up the last of his socks when something occurs to him. "How do you 'accidentally' download gay porn, anyway?"

Jehan ignores him, picking up his own pile and trying not to look like he's hurrying away, and another thought occurs to Jay.

"And why did you keep it?"

+

When Jay just can't take it any more, he finally grows some balls and goes to visit Taec.

Eventually. After three days and nine hours of dithering at home, followed by another twenty-two minutes of walking the long way and then an additional seven standing in front of Taec's house, staring at his bedroom window.

He has no idea what's going to happen. What if Taec never wants to see him again? What if the whole of Taec's family hates him? What if Jihyen punches him in the face? What if Taec's dad is home and he punches him in the face? What if Taec's mom is really good with knives?

What if Taec's family has a pro-gun policy?

By this time Jay has psyched himself out of it and he is just about to turn and leave when the front door opens and he freezes.

It's Jihyen. She gazes at him steadily, unblinking, before inclining her head inside and disappearing, leaving the front door open.

Jay follows timidly, up the front stairs, onto the porch where he takes his shoes off and then through the door, which he loses his grip on. He flinches as it slams ominously closed behind him.

+

She's in the dining room, sitting primly at the table, hands clasped and folded over her crossed legs. A steaming coffee sits in front of her, the smell curling into Jay's nostrils, and his nausea only intensifies. She gestures to the seat next to her, the one that Taec usually sits in, and Jay carefully slides into it, trying not to disrupt the order of anything around him.

She makes sure she has his full attention before starting. "Although seeing my brother half-naked and writhing underneath another man was a severely traumatising experience, I want you to know that I saw mostly you, and you have a disgustingly good body, so I've managed to wipe everything but that from my brain."

"Um," Jay says. "Thanks."

Jihyen pauses at that, reaching down to take a delicate sip at her mug, and Jay remembers why he was so drawn to her in the first place. There's something about her, a certain breed of softness, of delicateness, that combines effortlessly with an inner strength to remind him, almost too much, of his mother. It's so very alluring and so completely the opposite of Taec that Jay is almost dazed, but then all he has to do is glance at the photo of Taec on the wall—he's younger, maybe in his early teens, and he's clutching onto what looks like a banjo, laughing candidly as he strums it, his ears sticking out through his terrible hair, his teeth crooked and even huger than they are now, his eyes hardly visible around his eye wrinkles—and something inside him swells of its own accord and he's completely and mortifyingly gone.

Fucking Taec.

Jihyen places her mug back on the table and clears her throat, drawing his attention back to her. She folds her hands in her lap, and Jay tries to prime himself for what's to come. "Since you thought you were so deeply in love with me until you spent time with Taec," she starts, and Jay already wants to drown himself, "I can only assume that this is new for you. And since you were also so flagrantly heterosexual until you met Taec, I can only hazard the guess that you must really like him."

"Fuck, this is embarrassing," Jay mutters, rubbing his eyes, but she grabs his wrist and pulls him closer, until they're only centimetres apart. Her eyes are like fire, Tyra Banks-style fierce, and her grip on his arm tightens with each second, her nails digging into his skin, but he doesn't even try to pull away.

"Tell me the truth, Jaebum," she demands, and Jay finally understands that he should be scared for his life right about now. "Do you like my brother?"

Jay takes a breath. If he does this now, there's no going back, no hiding it, no more of this denial shit. It'll be there, out in the open and open for the taking, true and real and…

Fuck it.

"'Like' kinda… isn't a strong enough word," he says quietly. Jihyen, still watching him closely, takes a moment, before nodding and letting go of him.

"Okay," she says, and grins.

"Okay," Jay says, returning her smile.

He doesn't want to go back.

+

Taec isn't at the basketball court this time, or with Khun, or Chansung or even at the internet cafe. He could be at school but Jay will never find him there, and he has given up completely and turned into his front yard when he notices movement out of the corner of his eye. He ducks and twists aside to come face-to-face with Taec as he reels backwards, hands held up, palms facing outwards.

"Woah, dude. It's only me."

Jay stumbles and stares, because he hasn't seen Taec in so long and it felt as if he was going through withdrawals but now it's like he can breathe again, properly, fully, and he's still getting used to the fact that Taec can make him feel that way. Jay watches him closely, eyes scanning his face for any sort of clue about what’s to come. Taec, however, remains stoic and simply extends an arm to drape something over Jay's shoulder.

"I was on my way home and—anyway. It's… this is for Jehan. He left it at Khun's house." He pulls back like Jay is diseased, and Jay covers the hurt he feels by picking up the shirt and inspecting it.

He frowns. "When?"

"Uh," Taec says, seeming confused, "at the," he clears his throat, "party, I guess?"

"But he was wearing this yesterday."

Taec finally looks at him, and it seems to sink in for both of them at the same time. Jehan. And Khun. Knowing what they both know, and spending time together, and sending Taec here…

"Fucking girls," Jay says, shaking his head, almost fondly. Trust those two to think they're fucking matchmakers, or something.

Taec grunts in agreement. "Should've caught on. Khun's isn't even a good actor."

They stand there for a few more moments, Taec back to avoiding Jay's gaze, but Jay can't help but keep watching him, cataloguing every one of Taec's awkward, jittery movements, filing them away in his mental library of Taec's body language. They've never really been like this before, so self-conscious and uneasy around each other, and Jay finds he wants to know all of Taec's reactions, wants to learn and memorise every single one of them, wants to know everything about him.

It's just another weird thing Taec makes him feel. He's slowly getting used to it all.

"What did your sister say?" he asks finally, saying anything to break the tension, particularly since it's a safe topic because he already knows the answer.

Taec smirks, and Jay's relieved he still feel comfortable enough to do so. "That I should hold onto you because you have hot abs. What did your brother say?"

"That I should make you the bitch."

Taec laughs at that, surprised and embarrassed, reaching up to scratch uncomfortably at his neck. "Glad to see our siblings are so supportive."

Jay nods. "They kinda are, though."

"I know." Taec smiles. It's a real smile, reflected in the way his eyes crinkle and his lips slowly part to reveal his many teeth and fuck, it makes Jay sappy. His chest is doing stupid things that should only happen in chick-flicks and it has been for a while now, and so he's not really fully in control of himself when he grabs Taec's wrist and yanks hard.

Taec yelps and nearly trips but Jay doesn't give him any time to ask questions, shoving his key in the lock and swinging Taec inside, manoeuvring him into the lounge room.

This time, Jay doesn't wait for Taec's permission before leaning up and in to kiss him, and is relieved as all fuck when Taec pushes back, immediately intensifying the moment by adding tongue. Jay can't help but get aggressive, hands on Taec's face, pushing and pulling, but then Taec moves away and the look in his eyes makes Jay relax because he knows, now, for sure—Taec wants what he does.

Taec takes the initiative, his intense gaze never leaving Jay's. He moves in again and his hands grasp at Jay's biceps and squeeze slightly, as seems to be his custom now, before they slip around and skim down Jay's sides to settle on his hips, just underneath his wifebeater. His lips work across Jay's jaw and his thumbnails dig into Jay's hipbones but Jay enjoys the small darts of pain—they remind him of the real world, that other sensations exist, and he's grateful for it because it would be easy to get carried away with this.

Taec shifts, then, and Jay grunts in surprise as Taec's hands run back up his torso and he grabs hold of the armhole of Jay's wifebeater, stretching the fabric, yanking it aside. Jay is just wondering what the hell when Taec's tongue runs over his tattoo, pressing hot and wet into his skin, tracing the curves of the letters with the tip before running back over it, broad and flat and—

"Fuck," Jay bites out.

"I've wanted to do that since I saw it," Taec tells him, eyes glittering, and he does it again.

Jay reaches up in order to smack him across the head, but ends up curling his fingers around his neck and yanking him closer, so they're perfectly aligned, instead.

When Jehan comes home and finds them together on the couch he cuts sick, but Jay just laughs and pulls Taec into his room, closing the door behind them.

+

The next day, after a text full of deformed emoticons from Khun wakes him up, after he finally manages to coax Taec out of his delirious just-woken-up stage, after a good-morning make out he could totally get used to, he introduces Taec to his mom.

And then he takes him to b-boy practice, which the others bitch about, but Jay knows the truth.

They're just jealous he has a hot cheerleader and they don't.

+

+ A Pirate's Life For Me [2PM]

2011-01-26T13:59:09Z

Title: A Pirate's Life For Me
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Taecyeon, Jay, Khun
Word Count: 555
Notes: Cracky pirate AU. For biases, who inspired this months ago after a discussion about parrots. I have no idea what else I'm going to do with this, but there may perhaps eventually possibly be more in the future. Maybe.
Summary: When Taec and Jay need a more bountiful crew, the first place they go is the JYPE Tavern.

+

When Taec and Jay need a more bountiful crew, the first place they go is the JYPE Tavern. It's located in one of the seedier strips of Seoul Bay, but it's well known throughout the seas as a place where you can find whatever you're looking for, at a small price, and on the down low. (The last part is highest on Taec's priority list—they quite possibly caused some major problems on their last… adventure, and keeping well away from any authoritative forces would be very advantageous for them right now.)

They step in, residual wobble still in their legs from being at sea so long, and Taec waits for his eyes to adjust to the dingy light. Jay, on the other hand, tries to look around even though he can't see anything, the obnoxious feather in his hat whacking Taec in the face and making his pet parrot, Yoona, squawk in annoyance. (Taec has tried to get him to downgrade feathers on numerous occasions, because this always happens—Taec has the sneaking suspicion he does it on purpose, even—but Jay refuses because he thinks it makes him look taller and more intimidating.

It doesn't.)

Once they can finally see more than a foot in front of them, Taec spots the bar and sighs in relief, abandoning Jay in favour of the wench behind it. She sidles over to him, and he takes a moment to admire her large eyes.

"What can I get for ya?" she asks, heavily accented, pouting, eyelashes fluttering. This wench, Taec thinks, is good.

"Just some rum for me, thanks," he says pleasantly, leaning on the bar. "None for my Cap'n, he doesn't drink." Yoona's beak latches lightly onto his ear, reminding him of her presence, and he adds, "Also, you wouldn't happen to have any crackers, by any chance?"

"Might do." The wench leans forward to run her fingertip gently over Yoona's head, her tunic billowing out at the neck, and that's when Taec sneaks a glance and realizes—not a wench. Not a she. Not a girl.

A boy.

Well. That could've been embarrassing. Taec, feeling more comfortable now, grins and extends a hand. "Taec, first mate on the 2PM. You?"

"Nichkhun," he says, still fluttering, although he stops quite suddenly and stares over Taec's shoulder. "That your Cap'n?"

Taec turns and sighs. "Yes. That would be him."

They watch as Jay makes his way over to a particularly inebriated patron, leans in, and makes a loud bird noise in his face. The man doesn't respond, but Yoona does, letting out a matching screech. Taec strokes her wing in an effort to calm her.

"Jay," he calls, "would you stop that? You're upsetting Yoona."

Jay frowns and stomps over, adjusting his grip on his (novelty) steel hook. "Don't call me that! I'm your captain! I'll have you hung for treason!"

Taec grins at him and pats his shoulder. "Okay. This is Nichkhun, by the way."

Jay peers around him and, spotting the barman, perks up considerably. "Well, yo ho ho," he says, voice dropping way lower than usual. He removes his hat and bows.

Nichkhun giggles and winks, and Jay smirks, and Taec knows instantly that he's never, ever going to be the one to tell Jay that his newest conquest is actually a boy.

+

+ Without Breath [Beast]

2011-01-18T06:51:50Z

Title: Without Breath
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Junhyung/Doojoon, Yoseob
Word Count: ~7400
Notes: For nautisch for b2stsanta. AU heavily based on the Soom MV. Thanks to biases for all the support every step of the way. Originally posted here.
Summary: Junhyung's stomach clenches tight and the feeling rises to his chest, gripping onto all of his organs and it's the most disgusting timing but even as Yoseob battles for air Junhyung can feel the bile rising in his own throat, feel his lungs closing in themselves and his airways compacting until suddenly he's wheezing just as much as Yoseob.

+

Fear is excitement without breath — Robert Heller

+

Junhyung remembers things from before, sometimes, tiny snapshots of what life was like—how his mother sounded when she was angry, his father's cigarette-stained fingers, what a bath felt like, the flashing lights and hazy air and thumping bass of a club, the way his third girlfriend's school skirt would flip up at the slightest breeze—and he doesn't know whether to consider it a blessing or a curse.

He was at a difficult age when it happened, too young to remember, but too old to forget. There are snippets, flashes that constantly plague his mind, particularly vivid when he's having a panic attack, when he's struggling to pull in a breath, for his throat to open up enough for air to slip through. He's not even sure how many of them are real and how many of them he's made up, gleaned from movies and video games of his youth, from stories others have told him, from dreams and faded, ragged photos, but whatever the case, he tries not to let himself reflect on them for long.

Things aren't like that anymore, and no-one has any choice but to move on.

+

When Yoseob's fever spikes, they have no choice but to split up.

Although they usually try to avoid dividing themselves up so completely, this time they can't help it—it's not just medicine they need, but food and water, too. Sometimes rations are still dropped, from unknown sources, but they are irregular and claimed quickly, often appearing on the black market in return for ridiculous demands. A lot of the time their scouting trips are fruitless, and end in them having to raid their own supplies of dried and tinned foods, but their stockpile is dwindling fast and it isn't going to last them much longer.

It's dangerous and there are gangs more violent than theirs who would kill for a speck of food and Junhyung's even heard stories of cannibals, of people who've turned to other people for sustenance, but everyone in their group is well-practiced at this. They've been out hunting and scouting so many times that it's second nature, in any combination of members.

This time three groups of two is the only option. Still, when Junhyung realises that Doojoon intends to leave Yoseob at their home base alone with Kikwang, he can't help but call him on it.

"Yah," he says, pulling him aside as he zips up his pack, "why aren't you the one staying with Seobie? You're the medic."

"Which also makes me the only one with the connections and the know-how to get what he really needs. Trust me, Junhyung, I've thought this through." He glances at Dongwoon and Hyunseung on other side of the shabby, worn living room, preparing for their own journey, then straightens and puts a heavy hand on Junhyung's bicep, stepping closer. "Yoseob is only in the beginning of stage two. Kikwang is the best fighter and he'll be able to protect—"

Junhyung shakes him off. "What if something happens? You say Seobie has time, but what if he doesn't? What if he gets worse?"

Doojoon's expression darkens. "If Yoseob's condition deteriorates," he says quietly, "there'll be nothing any of us can do without the right medicine, anyway."

The terrifying truth of that hits Junhyung like a bullet and he suddenly finds his throat going horribly dry.

"I don't like it either," Doojoon says softly, obviously sensing him relenting. He slides his hand up Junhyung's arm and to his neck, rubbing gently at the curve of it, and Junhyung tries to pretend he doesn't find it as comforting as he does. "But we have no choice."

Junhyung sighs. "Where are we going? When?"

"We'll leave in the morning. There's an old hospital about a day away from here," he says, and Junhyung immediately finds himself tensing up. Hospital. Hospital. Doojoon must notice, because his grip tightens and he frowns. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He looks over Doojoon's shoulder to see Dongwoon watching them with a horrifically sappy expression and immediately pulls back, Doojoon's fingertips sliding uselessly down his chest. "I'm going to get ready," he says gruffly, backing out.

He pauses in the hallway at the door to Yoseob's room, watching through the half-open door. He hates how tiny Yoseob looks in the bed. It's only an old hospital cot, swiped from one of the last hospitals Doojoon volunteered at before even they turned to shit, but it still manages to completely swallow him, dwarfing him and making him seem frighteningly like a small, sickly child.

Junhyung guesses that it's a good sign that he's still able to laugh and joke with Kikwang, but the problem with Yoseob is that he acts like he's fine for a long time, lets things build up and up and up until they explode. He worries about burdening the group, and even when he got the sickness he didn't tell anyone, not until he collapsed two days ago and Doojoon had realized he had entered into the second stage.

The same thing happened when he hurt his neck. For days he's simply laughed it off as a crick from sleeping badly, but it lingered long enough for Junhyung to worry and insist on Doojoon checking him out properly. Only then did they realize that Yoseob was severely understating things, and actually had problems with his spinal cord.

Yoseob wears a neck brace now. That and his dark hair are the only things that set him apart at all from the sterile white of the room, and Junhyung is almost thankful for them.

Yoseob looks over, then, noticing him at the door, and grins. Junhyung takes heart from the fact that that, at least, hasn't changed.

"Hey," he says, pushing inside. "How are you feeling?"

Yoseob huffs and crosses his arms, obviously trying to look mad but only succeeding in looking cute.

"What'd I say?" Junhyung asks, turning to Kikwang.

Kikwang grins, eyes smiling along with him. "He wants people to stop treating him like a child. He says—"

"Yah, I can speak for myself. Go and do something useful for once," Yoseob scolds him, pouting, and Kikwang grins wider, taking the opportunity to clean up a little. His tattoos curl up his arms in strange patterns, flexing with his muscles as he goes about collecting Yoseob's various dirty utensils. Junhyung often finds himself tracing them up his arms with his eyes, trying to discern some meaning from them. He doesn't know where they came from, just that Kikwang went through some difficult times alone before they formed their group.

It's just another thing, along with Hyunseung's hideous accessories and Dongwoon's terrifying aptitude for maths problems, that Junhyung doesn't pry into. Junhyung sometimes wishes Doojoon would show the same restraint when it comes to the past, but then, if he only showed indifference, he probably wouldn't be fit to be their leader.

"Call if you need anything," Kikwang says, and Yoseob waves him away, waiting until he's gone before reaching out and dragging Junhyung closer, linking their hands and forcing him to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Yah!" Junhyung complains, but it's only half-hearted. He can never really yell at Yoseob, not even when he deserves it. He tried, for a while, too stay aloof, to keep himself separate, but with someone like Yoseob around that's impossible. Yoseob crawls under his skin and makes a home for himself and Junhyung tells him things and he doesn't even know why. There's no need to try and maintain any type of barrier with Yoseob, and even if he tried, Yoseob would break through it anyway.

"Are you going to be okay?" Yoseob asks, playing with his fingers. "You're going to a hospital…"

Junhyung shifts uncomfortably at the reminder. It had probably been naïve of him not to connect needing medicine and having to visit a medical facility of some kind, but he honestly hadn't thought that far.

Of course Yoseob has.

"Of course I am. Who do you think I am, Doojoon?" he finally answers. "I'm not going to cry over every little thing."

"Okay, okay," Yoseob says, laughing. His thumb strokes over Junhyung's palm and Junhyung squeezes his fingers before letting go and standing up.

"I'm leaving first. I need to go and nag the others."

"Okay." Yoseob's face falls and Junhyung feels himself melt a little.

Again.

"I'll see you later. Or I'll kill you," he says meaningfully, and Yoseob smiles again, nodding.

"Hey," Yoseob says, just before he leaves, "remember to take your mask."

"Stop it," Junhyung says. "You're turning into me."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" he says playfully.

Junhyung just raises an eyebrow.

+

No-one remembers the last time it rained. There are those who remember the sensation of it, what it sounded like, tasted like, but not one person can recall the last time they felt it on their skin. The date it all started is hazy, too, because it happened so gradually—year by year, it simply rained less and less, until it didn't rain at all.

It changed everything. Limited rain had already caused problems but the complete absence of a renewing fresh water source set society back countless years. There was a rationing system instated, but by the time it came into effect even the aid from other countries and a network of desalination plants couldn't stop diseases forming and spreading, epidemics overloading now-inadequate hospitals. And then everything stopped: no more aid, no more government contact. The people were forced to fend for themselves and most of them failed.

Junhyung's parents were no exception. They suffered, just like millions of others, and they died, just like millions of others. Junhyung was orphaned, just like millions of others, left with nothing except memories, nightmares and the inability to breathe.

And then Junhyung met Doojoon in the hospital when he had another attack. Kikwang and Yoseob were already Junhyung's friends and Doojoon kind of already knew Dongwoon and then Hyunseung came along and none of them had anyone else, so it was kind of natural that they all fell together.

They're his family now. They help him forget.

Most of the time.

+

Junhyung wakes up gasping, thrashing and scrabbling and completely unable to breathe, the images of his parents bloodied and defeated and dying playing on repeat with disturbing clarity in his brain. He's trying to calm himself down but the lack of air only makes him even more panicked and his oesophagus is closing rapidly, too rapidly to even try to take one more breath. His oxygen mask in his bag and his bag is on Doojoon's side because he forgot to move it before they went to sleep and he has no idea how he made such a stupid mistake but now he's definitely paying for it.

In his hysteria he tries to reach over Doojoon and grab it but he can't control his limbs properly and ends up falling over Doojoon, elbowing him in the stomach, empty fingers of his other hand trailing over his neck. Doojoon wakes with a start, hands automatically coming up to shield himself from an oncoming attack. When he realizes what's happening he bursts into action immediately, pushing Junhyung up into a sitting position and wrenching the mask out his pack, uncoiling the tangled cord and pressing it to Junhyung's face, and after a few seconds Junhyung can feel the pressurized air against his skin. He opens his mouth wide and breathes in slowly, suppressing the urge to drag it in as quickly as possible.

"It's okay," Doojoon soothes, helping Junhyung hold the mask up. "Come on, it's okay, just breathe."

He keeps talking and even though Junhyung can't process the exact meaning of his words he concentrates on the shape of his lips as they move, the cadence of his voice, and slowly, gradually, he can feel it—his throat opens up, air flows more freely into his lungs and they stop burning so much. His mother's face fades away and his father goes with her, leaving Junhyung at the mercy of the present. Eventually, Doojoon pulls the mask away and drops it into Junhyung's lap, pressing his fingers to Junhyung's throat and counting his pulse rate.

This has happened enough times that Junhyung really shouldn't feel as embarrassed as he does, but he can't help the spike of humiliation that flashes through him. He can't look at Doojoon, at the sympathetic expression he'll undoubtedly be wearing, because he's never wanted anyone to feel sorry for him, not ever.

"Thanks," he croaks.

"You okay?" Doojoon asks softly, concerned. "Wanna talk about it?"

Junhyung shakes his head, breathing slow and steady as he packs away the mask again, ignoring Doojoon's irritation. Doojoon asks every time, Junhyung gives the same answer every time, and every time Doojoon is disappointed. Junhyung thinks that it would save them both a lot of time and aggravation if he just gave up, because even though today is the day of his parents' second death anniversary, Yoseob is the only person who knows, the only person who will ever know.

Doojoon seems to think he's going to crack him, but really, it just makes Junhyung more determined not to give in.

"We should go," he says, already on his knees and shouldering his bag.

He feels Doojoon's eyes on him for a few moments before Doojoon reluctantly picks up his own pack and they creep out of the house together. Doojoon leads the way and Junhyung tries to distract himself by surveying their surroundings, staying alert in case of any movement that could lead to an attack.

It's hard to stay alert, though, when everything's so depressingly indistinguishable. A city has always been a city in his opinion, but now it's hard to differentiate between anywhere—the city could be suburbs could be the country. All that's left is rubble and destruction.

They pick their way around the hundredth burnt-out car in this street, taking care to avoid the still-burning fires glowing in the ruins around them, and before Junhyung knows it Doojoon has wandered off.

"Yah," he calls, "what are you doing, we need to stick to our route. Yah!"

Doojoon ignores him, though, as usual, and stubbornly makes for a building to their right, one of the lucky ones with walls still standing.

"Yah!" Junhyung tries again, but it's hopeless. When Doojoon gets an idea in his head, it's almost impossible to talk him out of it. Junhyung glances around them, but there's no-one, just the wind howling in his ears and licking at the thin strips of exposed skin on his wrists, around his neck and face. "Just hurry up."

"It's okay, I'm just…" Doojoon trails off and disappears behind the wreckage of another car.

Junhyung waits but when Doojoon still hasn't come out after a few more moments he sighs and drops onto one of the more sturdy-looking piles of debris. He leans down and runs his hand over the ground, gathering a handful of dirt and then letting it flow back through his fingers. It's fine and smooth, pale in colour, and Junhyung wonders briefly what it was before. Was it always here, part of the sandy soil of this particular area? Was it part of a building, some kind of construction material that's been so damaged this is all that's left? Or was it organic, some kind of living creature, a human or animal, one of the many to have perished in past months?

"Whatever," he mutters, standing and brushing his hands off on his thighs. He has no idea what Doojoon's doing but he's pissed off that he seems so eager to waste time.

"Yah," Doojoon calls and finally reappears just up ahead, denying Junhyung his opportunity to yell for him. He's framed by a blown-out window and looking very smug. "Isn't this where we first made out?"

"Want to die?" he asks reflexively, embarrassed, and Doojoon's smirk turns into an all-out grin.

"It is, I remember," he insists, but he finally comes out and makes his way back over to Junhyung. "I accidentally kicked the soccer ball into your head and you yelled at me and then when I checking for injuries I—"

Junhyung huffs out a breath, unable to hold it in any longer, and slaps a palm over Doojoon's mouth. "Can you just stop? I don't know what you're doing. Why are you talking about this when Yoseob's at home, in so much pain? How can you? I thought you loved him."

Doojoon frowns, bringing up his own hand to lower Junhyung's. "I would never… I'm just trying to distract you. This morning was pretty bad, I thought maybe what's happening with Yoseob—"

"I'd be distracted," Junhyung says sharply, although with a much less venom, "if we just concentrated on getting the medicine and then getting it to Yoseob."

Doojoon nods slowly. "Okay."

Junhyung turns his back on him and they start off again.

+

Junhyung has a scar. They all have scars, in as many senses of the word as possible, but this one is particularly prominent, a thick white groove traversing the length of his forearm. It's soft and smooth and raised, like the embossed envelopes his father used to send to other important businessmen. Yoseob likes to rub it for luck before he goes out scouting and Doojoon traces his rough fingertips over it at nighttime, but Junhyung loathes it.

That scar doesn't bring any luck, nor does it deserve to be touched so reverently. All that scar does is serve to remind Junhyung of the past, of when everything turned to shit, of when it first cut deep and ragged, dripping red and sending shocks of pain right through him. Of when his father screamed louder than he ever had at the soccer, of when his mother's face was so filled with fear that it's impossible for him to remember it any other way.

Sometimes Junhyung wishes he could scrub it right off, could erase everything that's happened since he got it, but not only is it impossible, it's also naïve.

There's no place for naivety in this world.

+

They travel in relative quiet all day, until it gets dark early and they have to stop, completely exhausted, in a small woodland area they discover not far from the main road.

Of course, it's not woodland as it once was, simply a mass of uprooted trees and fog after the months of destruction wreaked upon it, but they manage to find a small clearing to settle in. When they're erecting their tent Doojoon isn't as full of vigour as he usually is, and Junhyung notices him favouring his left arm, his face contorting every time he puts too much pressure on his right. Even so they finish quickly, working as a team, efficient after having done this for so many months and as soon as everything is set up Junhyung grabs Doojoon's arm, wrenching him closer, ignoring the way he cringes in pain.

He yanks up Doojoon's sleeves to reveal a bright red piece of material and stares. "What the fuck is this?"

The red is blood and it has seeped through the sock that Doojoon has hastily tied around the wound, and it's still steadily dripping out, soaking through to his long-sleeved shirt and even his jackets.

"When did you get this?" he demands, and Doojoon looks sheepish.

"When you told me off earlier."

"Why didn't you tell me, we could have stopped to fix it!"

"I was going to, but I didn't want to worry you. You've got enough—"

"You are such a fucking idiot," Junhyung growls. He shoves Doojoon into the tent and wriggles in after him, rolling out their sleeping bag and yanking Doojoon close. Junhyung roots through Doojoon's pack for the medical bag, taking it out carefully and emptying its contents out.

Doojoon is a surprisingly good patient. He doesn't complain, not even when Junhyung spills the antiseptic and keeps pulling too hard on the needle, he just gives Junhyung quiet instructions, directing him calmly and patiently. Junhyung bites down on the thread to break it off harder than he needs to, and Doojoon yelps and jolts back with the movement as it snaps, but he recovers quickly, flexing his arm out and back in, testing the stitches.

"It'll probably scar," Doojoon says. "We'll match." He grins but Junhyung says nothing, busying himself with packing away the medical implements, most of which he doesn't even know the purpose of. If Doojoon has any sense he won't push the issue, but this is Doojoon, so nothing is guaranteed.

"You never told me how you got yours," Doojoon continues, and Junhyung doesn't know whether to feel smug or disappointed. Instead he tries to focus on staying calm. He can feel Doojoon looking at him but he refuses to give in, zipping up the medical bag and shoving it back in Doojoon's pack.

"I'm going for a walk," he mutters, but Doojoon grabs his arm, thumb running over his scar, and Junhyung flinches.

"Junhyung," he says.

Junhyung tries to push him away but he doesn't take the hint and just grips tighter. "Let go."

"Why won't you ever tell me anything?" he asks. He sounds frustrated and angry, letting emotion into his voice for the first time in days, something other than bravado or fake cheer, and for a moment Junhyung is just glad that he's managed to crack through his stupid veneer.

"There's nothing to tell," he says, and he knows Doojoon picks up on the warning in his voice, but they're obviously past indulging each other at this point and he pushes on.

"Right, it just appeared one day. I know Yoseob knows, if he can know, why can't I?"

"Stop it," Junhyung says.

"Tell me," he commands, gaze intense and full of determined fire. "I don't understand why you can't. Is it me? You can trust me, I'm not—"

"Fucking stop it!" Junhyung wrenches away, Doojoon's fingernails scraping lightly over his scar, and hurries to crawl out of the tent before Doojoon can figure out how to do the same without further hurting himself. He scrambles up and stalks away, barely noticing the cold, concentrating on getting away.

Fuck Doojoon, fuck him and his stupid need to know everything, not to mention that stupid way he has of making Junhyung feel guilty for not telling him. He doesn't have to tell anyone anything, and he certainly shouldn't feel so pressured by someone who claims to care so much about him. Doojoon should respect his unwillingness to rehash his entire gruesome past, and get used to the fact that he'll probably never know and should really just back the fuck off.

After a few more moments of walking he hears a branch snap behind him and he turns to face Doojoon, opening his mouth to say something, but promptly forgets what it is when Doojoon moves right up into his personal space and pushes him against the nearest tree trunk. It's jagged and no taller than they are and it digs hard into Junhyung's back.

"What are you doing?" Junhyung asks warily, acutely aware of Doojoon's body, pressed against his at every possible point, warmth and softness that completely contrasts the cold bark.

"Just—" And Doojoon leans in so quickly Junhyung's reflexes take over and his head jerks back into the tree, but then Doojoon's lips slide against his and he relaxes because this, at least, he knows. Junhyung rolls his eyes and kisses back, his hands rising to Doojoon's hair.

This is how all of their arguments end and he's not going to be the one to break tradition.

*

They all have their skills and abilities and even though sometimes Junhyung has doubts about what he personally brings to the group, Doojoon will then go and say or do something stupid and he'll remember—right, he's the one they all go to when Doojoon says or does something stupid. Which happens a lot.

His relationship with Doojoon is a strange one, and Junhyung would say an suprising one, although apparently Yoseob never expected anything less. They fight, they disagree and they clash, but they never pretend.

Doojoon puts up a façade for everyone else. Most of the time it pisses Junhyung off, but then something will happen and he'll see Yoseob sitting with him, curling into his lap, quiet and unsure and vulnerable and then see him walk away again a few minutes later, laughing and bright and Yoseob again, and he'll understand exactly why he does it.

And he'll watch Doojoon as Yoseob walks away, see him finally allow the exhaustion and fatigue to creep onto his face, see him rub his eyes and rest his head between his knees, and know that he won't be denying Doojoon access to his sleeping bag that night.

+

The hospital hasn't escaped deterioration. From the outside, it doesn't even look like a hospital—it's covered in graffiti, run-down and dilapidated, windows smashed, boarded and reboarded innumerable times. Once sleek, modern infrastructure, a bustling high-rise of healing, it's now silent, dark and empty, looming ominously over them, merely an imitation of what it used to be.

Junhyung doesn't have the best history with hospitals. He spent a lot of time in one when his parents got sick, being ferried from one wing to the other, and has been repressing his memories of these places for years. In one way it's comforting that it looks nothing like he remembers, but in another it's just really fucking creepy.

Junhyung finds himself pressing closer to Doojoon as they approach. "How long is this going to take?" he asks quietly, matching Doojoon's pace as he slows to a stop a few metres from the doors. He needs to be in and out as quickly as possible. He wouldn't even be here if it wasn't Yoseob who was… He pokes Doojoon's arm. "Yah."

"Not long," Doojoon says distractedly. He hasn't taken his eyes off one of the front windows since they got closer, and as Junhyung looks too he sees a flash movement in a crack between the boards. "Okay," Doojoon continues, "let's go."

He starts off again and Junhyung strides next to him, trying not to look as queasy as he feels, but as soon as they get closer and the doors open for them, heralded by the shrieking of warped and degraded metal, he can feel his throat starting to close over.

He tries to breathe slowly.

They step inside and the doors shut again almost immediately, Junhyung turning to see two guys carefully working them closed, locking chains and piling sheets of heavy metals back in front of them to barricade them off, so they're practically triple the thickness they were.

It's cold inside, and dark, the only illumination created by a makeshift fire torch in the corner, and the tiny shafts of light filtering through cracks in the decrepit ceiling.

"Come on," Doojoon says lowly, warm breath flickering over Junhyung's neck, and Junhyung follows him down the dingy hall.

Doojoon seems to know exactly where he's going, but Junhyung gets lost in the maze of corridors almost immediately. It was bad enough when he could read the signs, but the further in they get the less hope he has of keeping his bearings. None of the rooms have doors and they feel like dark maws waiting to swallow him up, and occasionally he hears something—the scurrying of feet, a carried whisper—but mostly he tries to concentrate on Doojoon, right in front of him, the uneven hairline on the back of his neck reminding Junhyung that he needs a haircut.

"Okay," Doojoon says, and stops suddenly. Junhyung walks right into him and he doesn't completely hate the sudden burst of warmth. Doojoon must realize because he reaches back to hold him there for a moment. "Stay here, I'll be right back." He squeezes tighter.

Junhyung swallows and lets go, faking nonchalance. "Where else would you go?"

Doojoon rolls his eyes, presses onwards towards the only room with a door and knocks on it. When it opens he disappears inside and doesn't look back.

Junhyung tries to ignore the oppressiveness of the atmosphere, terrifyingly familiar even in such drastically different circumstances, because if he lets himself think about it too much then he knows he will completely lose control. And he can't afford to do that right now.

But he can do this.

Yoseob needs him. He'll do this for Yoseob.

Taking a deep breath, he leans against the wall and settles down to wait, trying to ignore the dread inexplicably pooling in his stomach.

+

It's hard to keep track of time with no plans, no news bulletins and no reliable technology, but Yoseob helps. He has his own set of documents, of calendars and diaries that he consults every day, special events noted and days crossed off as they pass. He remembers everyone's birthday, all the important anniversaries and even the special holidays.

They all pretend not to care, like it doesn't matter, like he's a nuisance—but they do care, it is important, and he's so, so special for bothering to keep up with it that Junhyung feels a little overwhelmed sometimes.

This is never more true than on the day of Junhyung's parents' first death anniversary. They're running low on candles and they have no food but when the others go out scouting Yoseob pulls out the last red candle they have, burned low, only about a centimetre high, and presents Junhyung with a plate. On it is a rice cake, the closest thing they've been able to find for a jeon pancake.

Junhyung narrows his eyes. "How did you even—"

"You're not that mysterious," he says, lips quirking for a moment, and then he sobers, lighting the candle and scooting backwards, letting Junhyung have his privacy, and Junhyung is profoundly grateful for the support.

It's a pale imitation of a proper ceremony, but it's something.

+

Doojoon does his thing quickly and emerges from the room again in under ten minutes. Junhyung can't help but grip his shoulder as he leads the way back out, and they both blink in the sudden light of the outside world.

Junhyung expects the horrible feeling to disappear as soon as they leave the hospital, but it doesn't—it only intensifies the closer they get to their home base, and he doesn't understand why. He snaps at a maddeningly calm Doojoon more than once on their trip, agitated and worried, unable to sleep that night and packing up early the next day, eager to get home.

When they arrive home it's to find Kikwang panicking completely, meeting them as soon as they step inside and screeching something about Yoseob being worse, and Junhyung knows that this is why he's felt so uneasy in these past hours.

Yoseob is dying.

He's is hit by the almost hysterical desire to turn and tell Doojoon I told you so, but Yoseob—Yoseob.

All he want to do is run to him but he forces himself to hang back and let Doojoon, the one who can actually help, the only one who can actually help, lead the way. The fear and panic intensify with every step forward, and he bursts into the room behind the others, staring at Yoseob as he sweats and tosses and turns, moaning unintelligible things, breathing way too heavily and quickly for anyone's comfort.

"He's in the third stage. It wasn't supposed to move this quickly," Doojoon mutters, swinging his pack off his shoulders, unzipping it and tipping everything out, but he's taking too long—Yoseob is getting worse by the second, gasping and coughing. Junhyung's stomach clenches tight and the feeling rises to his chest, gripping onto all of his organs and it's the most disgusting timing but even as Yoseob battles for air Junhyung can feel the bile rising in his own throat, feel his lungs closing in themselves and his airways compacting until suddenly he's wheezing just as much as Yoseob.

"Doo-doojoon—" he gasps, reaching out.

Doojoon spares him an annoyed glance before he registers Junhyung's condition and his eyes widen. "Shit, you're having an attack!" He glances quickly from Yoseob to Junhyung before leaning over, grabbing Junhyung's shoulders and forcing him to look him the eyes. "Junhyung, just look at me, it's okay, where's your mask? Is it in your bag?"

Junhyung pulls in a gasping breath, not sure of the answer, not sure of the question, nodding anyway because it's all he can do when his brain is starting to throb, his chest starting to burn, limbs starting to feel like wet pulpy cardboard.

Doojoon turns to where Kikwang is hovering anxiously in the doorway. "Kikwang, I need Junhyung's bag, go and get it now!"

Kikwang nods vigorously and Junhyung wants to try to tell him no, you can't, it's run out of air because I forgot to refill it because I'm pretty sure my best friend is dying and that was my priority but he doesn't have the capacity for words right now, can't think, can barely even keep his eyes open except for the fact that he can't look away from Yoseob, who is still thrashing and groaning in bed.

Doojoon makes a little broken noise and begins to shakes Junhyung's shoulders. "Junhyung, I can't— I need to get to Yoseob, he needs— Junhyung, you have to breathe, I can't—"

And then Yoseob goes still and Doojoon swears and everything seems like it happens in slow motion as Doojoon immediately drops his hands from Junhyung's shoulders, scoops up the package of medicine and rushes to Yoseob. Yoseob's eyes are wild, the whites of them practically glowing with the force of his fit, and even as Junhyung is falling to his knees in a gasping heap suddenly all he can think of are his parents. Even as Doojoon's hands scrabble at the complicated packaging of the medicine, his right arm still too sore and weak to open it, even as he screams for Kikwang, even as Junhyung finds himself crawling over and snatching the package from him and ripping it open with the very last of his energy, even as Doojoon frantically flicks the air out of the syringe and then plunges the needle through the lid of the medicine to draw it in and then rips it out and jams it into Yoseob's arm and depresses the plunger, even as he injects medicine into Yoseob's veins, Junhyung is remembering his parents, their last moments, the way his dad never woke up, the way his mom's eyes fluttered closed, the way their slack faces afterwards didn't give any indication of the suffering they're been through while they were alive.

Yoseob isn't like that, though. He won't end up like them, he won't, because his body suddenly jerks, every muscle in his body tensing and then relaxing, the first sign that the medicine is having an effect, and everything is okay. It's okay.

And then, as Junhyung collapses onto his back on the floor, gasping in relief, and the air flows freely into his lungs, he realises something else—he can breathe again.

+

Junhyung dreams of his mother.

He's dreamt of her before, dreams of her all the time, but it's different this time. She's always been scared, always hurting, always dying, but this time she's calm, serene, whole and much younger than in his memories.

She's wearing a red dress in a shade Junhyung has never seen her in before, not unless —but this time she's spotless, practically ethereal as she glides towards him. He watches her approach, eyes wide, and he wants to go to her, but he's lying on his back and he can't move. He doesn't even know where he is but it doesn't matter, because she's all he can see, anyway.

His breath hitches, catches and then quickens, all of the signs of an oncoming attack, but he can't do anything at all about it, can only continue to watch as she gets closer, closer, close enough to touch, kneeling beside and gazing at him tenderly.

It's such a counterpoint to all Junhyung's memories of her that he almost cries but he can't, because he can't breathe, and then—

And then she's lifting an oxygen mask to his face, fitting it over his mouth and gently pressing down and Junhyung takes a tiny, stuttering breath. His lungs fill, expanding and contracting and then repeating, and all he can see is her, her eyes full of love and promises and he can move now, so he brings his hand up, sliding it over hers, and she smiles tenderly and he knows, now, that everything is okay.

+

Junhyung wakes up blinking and disoriented. It takes him a few moments to place where he is and what he's doing, but then he remembers—Yoseob. His head instantly clears and sits up straight in the tattered armchair next to the bed to find Doojoon smiling back at him.

"Hey," Doojoon says, leaning over Yoseob and pressing his fingers to the pulse point in his neck.

Junhyung lets him count uninterrupted before responding. "How is he?"

"Much better. He should be fine." He pulls the covers up to Yoseob's chin.

Junhyung exhales shakily, his chest feeling lighter than it has in a long time. "Thank fuck." Out of the corner of his eye he sees Yoseob's eyelids twitch and he smirks. "Although if he had died, at least we could've split everything five ways instead of six."

Yoseob's eyes snap open and he glares. "Thanks."

Junhyung sniggers and stands up, moving to ruffle his hair. His glare turns into a pout and Junhyung's ruffling morphs into stroking accordingly. Yoseob snuggles down into the blankets and closes his eyes again.

Doojoon watches the display with amusement. "Kikwang and Dongwoon got back about an hour ago. They managed to find some food."

Junhyung's stomach grumbles at the mention and he nods, forcing himself to leave Yoseob's side. Doojoon follows, closing the door behind them.

"You okay?" he asks, and Junhyung turns to him.

"I'm fine. Yesterday I know I… sorry."

Doojoon watches him, obviously trying to figure out how far to push things this time, before saying carefully, "It was pretty intense. I've never seen you… but you calmed yourself down. That's good."

Junhyung nods, thinking of his mother in the red dress, loving and serene. Thinking of Yoseob's smiling face. Thinking of Doojoon's tight grip on his hands.

He won't ever let it control him again.

"I watched my parents suffer for months. They got sick and they were in pain and they were dying and no-one could do anything. I bathed them and I fed them and I watched them bleed and wheeze and fade away right in front of me, and I couldn't do anything. I just. That's why…"

He swallows and shakes his head and there is a short silence before Doojoon says, softly and simply, "Okay."

When Junhyung finally looks up Doojoon is giving him a small smile, understanding and kind and not pitying in the slightest, and he wraps an arm around Junhyung's shoulders as they turn and head for the kitchen. Junhyung is so, so grateful, and he feels so much lighter and he squeezes back, bringing their bodies close for a moment. As soon as they step into the kitchen he lets go to greet Dongwoon with an awkward one-armed hug and he claps Hyunseung on the back, genuinely glad to see them. They're organizing the supplies they scraped together—in reality they're meagre at best, but to Junhyung it seems like a feast—and Kikwang asks him to please get some firewood from outside.

He nods, his mood too good to bicker about anything, and heads outside.

The first thing he notices is the sky—it's grey, as always, but the clouds look different, lower and heavier somehow. And then he realizes the air is different, too. It smells strange, electric, and there's something familiar about it that lingers on the edges of his memory.

When he puts the two together, it's almost too ridiculous to believe.

"Shit," he breathes, reaching out blindly to open the door again. "Doojoon. Doojoon!"

"What?" Doojoon skids into the hallway, munching on something, and Junhyung would scold him about starting before everyone else if there weren't something so crazy happening at this very second.

"Get out here," Junhyung commands, "get everyone out here."

It must be the combination of his tone and expression that has Doojoon doing so immediately, and it takes him less than a minute to shepherd everyone in the kitchen out. They all gather around Junhyung, Hyunseung looking particularly disgruntled, but then Junhyung points up and all they can do is stare is stare in silence.

"The sky," someone says finally, voice wavering in reverence, and they all turn to see Yoseob standing in the doorway, blanket around his shoulders, face tilted up. Junhyung is itching to tell him to get back inside, to look after himself, he's still sick, but he ends up keeping silent, and no-one stops Yoseob as he pushes past them and into the street, standing closer to the road.

They're all daring to hope.

Yoseob's only been standing there a few moments when he starts in shock and Junhyung makes his feet move and rushes over to him but Yoseob just presses a hand to his face and then holds it up and even the others can tell that it's wet.

Yoseob turns to Junhyung, eyes large and mouth curved up higher than he's ever seen it, and Junhyung feels his heartbeat immediately start to quicken, because the possibility of what this might mean is just—

"It's rain," Yoseob breathes. "Rain."

"Ssh," Hyunseung hisses, staring up at the sky, and for a moment they're all silent again, waiting. Excitement simmers in the air but Junhyung won't let himself get caught up in it, he can't, not yet, not until he knows for sure, not until—

"Gah!" Dongwoon yelps and jumps, pressing his palm to his nose in amazement. "I felt it! I felt a raindrop! I—"

"I felt it too!" Kikwang grins ecstatically at them all, spreading his arms wide, and all at once those four raindrops turn into four more, and then eight more, and then twelve more and Junhyung can see them fall, feel them, hear them, and then they're everything, obscuring his senses, slicing through the air to spot the ground.

Junhyung finds himself looking down, watching in a daze as the ground darkens, water quickly gathering in the grooves on the road and then overflowing, months of dirt and blood and grime being washed away forever.

A hand clamps onto his arm and he looks up and everything filters back in: Hyunseung twirling and Kikwang jumping, both shirtless, enraptured and irrepressible; Yoseob opening his mouth wide, letting it fill to overflowing before gulping down, pausing only to whoop in delight; Dongwoon running his fingers through his hair, scrubbing at his skin, the first shower he's felt in far too long. Doojoon's hand tightens and Junhyung looks at him, blinking droplets from his eyelashes. Doojoon's hair is plastered to his head unattractively and there's water dripping out of his nose and into his mouth but it doesn't matter, it's never mattered less, because he's smiling, beaming, wide and hopeful. He leans in and presses his lips to Junhyung's, licking the water from his top lip and Junhyung closes his eyes and—

And Junhyung finally lets himself feel.

+

He can breathe again.

+

+ Glamour Puss [2PM]

2010-10-24T14:16:43Z

Title: Glamour Puss
Rating: PG-13 (innuendo)
Characters: Wooyoung, OT6
Word Count: ~900
Notes: Those two hours made my entire day, even if they did produce my second catfic in a row. Also, I have no idea what they were actually wearing—some form of capetowel?—but the specifics matter to me very little. Many, many thanks to biases for flailing with me at the time, for lending me some of her lines, and for the beta. ♥
Summary: "I'll go first," Taec announces, swiping the cat-cape out of Wooyoung's hands, not that Wooyoung puts up much of a fight, "since it was my idea and I am also the original founder of the Okcat." And he climbs on top of the TV.

+

#1.

"I'll go first," Taec announces, swiping the cat-cape out of Wooyoung's hands, not that Wooyoung puts up much of a fight, "since it was my idea and I am also the original founder of the Okcat."

"Yah, I'm the one that actually has the cat," Chansung reminds him.

He pauses. "You can go second."

And he climbs on top of the TV.

+

#2.

"As a reminder," Taec makes sure to say, standing in front of Wooyoung, right in the way of his shot, "I'm only lending you this concept, okay? It's still mine."

"Fine, fine, now move, Chansung's waiting." Wooyoung waves him away, takes the picture, and hands his phone to Nichkhun, who immediately starts posting.

+

#3.

"Just so you know," Wooyoung says to Junsu, trying to entertain himself as they wait for Taec to stop texting Seulong and to just take the damn photo, "you wouldn't last five seconds against me."

Junsu raises an eyebrow. "I'm older and I have more muscles. Also, I'm taller."

"Just. Plus," he reaches out and pokes at Junsu's knee, and Junsu yelps and jerks back, "you have a weak spot."

Junsu narrows his eyes. "You want to die?"

Wooyoung can't help his grin.

The fierce look on Junsu's face may or may not be real by the time Taec finally takes the photo.

+

#3.

"Why are you reading?" Wooyoung asks, perching next to Khun in an effort to distract him. "And why does your cat wear a headband?"

"I'm not posting in English," Junho insists.

+

#5.

"Guys," Junho says, adjusting the cape worriedly, "does my butt look big in this?"

"Junho, you can't even count, is that really what's important here?" Wooyoung retorts, more than a little annoyed. "Can we just finish this?"

"It's been half an hour," Chansung complains, shimmying back into the costume rack, flicking the arm of a jacket from his face. "My back hurts, and we're on soon."

"A few more minutes won't matter." Junsu presses a series of buttons on his phone, frowning. "How do I turn off the flash?"

"Seriously, you guys, I'm worried about my hair. I think it clashes with this shade of grey."

Junsu looks up and squints at Junho. "It does a little, but at least it matches your make-up."

"Oh for—" Wooyoung stomps over and grabs Junsu's phone, who shrinks away and lets him take it, Wooyoung's previous ungentle actions obviously fresh in his mind. "Junho, just do it," he orders, and Junho, flustered, morphs into his default pose.

"Aww," the other members chorus.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes.

+

A

"I'm trending!" Taec announces proudly, thrusting his phone in front of Wooyoung's face. "At least the fans seem to know what's what."

"You're only trending because you were first," Chansung tells him, pouting. "It should have been me."

"Wait," Wooyoung says, noticing something and snatching Taec's phone away, "whose account is this?"

Taec cringes and lunges for it, but Wooyoung is flexible and lithe where Taec is not and easily evades his grasp. "Wooyoungie!" he whines, but Wooyoung ignores him.

"Who is 'TaecMeNow777'?" he asks, twirling away as Taec makes another grab for his phone. "And why are you signed in as them? More to the point," he adds as he scrolls down, seeing tweet after tweet of the same thing, "why does every single one of them say 'OKCATTTTTTTT'?"

Taec's ears go redder than he's ever seen them.

+

#6

"Guys, come on," Nichkhun pleads, "didn't Junsu already make everyone wait long enough?"

"Not my fault," Junsu calls, already in position for the last photo.

They all look at Junho, who just pushes his hair out his face and shrugs, and then the door bursts open.

Minjae pokes his head inside, and really, it's perfect timing—the group photo wasn't going to take itself. "Yah, whoever hasn't had their make-up done, go now, you're on soon."

"Minjae-hyung," Wooyoung says, turning up his aegyo, knowing Minjae can never resist him like this, "can you do us a favour?"

Minjae looks suspicious, but accepts Chansung's phone nonetheless.

+

#7

"We should take one more, a proper group one," Nichkhun says, flicking through the rest of the pictures. "It seems a shame to go to all this effort without a good one."

"Khunnie," Wooyoung whines from his spot on the floor, unwilling to get up, but the others are already assembling on the couch. Wooyoung groans and drags himself over as Khun clambers onto the back of the couch, taking the whole thing up with a ridiculous pose, and then the only spot left is next to Junsu on the floor.

Wooyoung hesitates, but Minjae sees.

"Hurry up, Wooyoung-ah. Get in the picture."

"Everyone, channel your inner pussy," Taec says, in bad taste as usual, and Chansung reaches over Junho to shove him, but it gives Wooyoung enough time to get into position. He makes himself look as cute as possible to disguise his displeasure at the entire scenario, pulling a face and curling his fists.

"Okay," Minjae says, "three, two, one—"

Junsu digs his fingers into Wooyoung's head a little harder than necessary, but at least it's over after that.

+

B

"Next time," Chansung says, as they wait in line to be led onstage, "I'm going first."

"Next time," Wooyoung says, yawning as Khun reaches over to adjust his collar, "can I be asleep again?"

Taec giggles behind them, his fingers a blur of motion over the keypad of his phone, and Junho and Junsu do their scales. Minjae passes by with something soft and grey clutched to his chest, but Wooyoung doesn't say a thing, content with doing some stretches against Chansung's body.

What their manager wants to do in his spare time is up to him.

+